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#he was inspired by a prompt and I need find the prompt and write it
papercorgiworld · 3 days
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Muffins and Fireworks, because I want your love
A Mattheo Riddle fluff
You are a kind and sweet person and you weird out Mattheo so much by being nice to him that you have him falling for you badly, turning our sour boy soft and sweet.
This was a lovely request but I feel like I screwed it up. I don't know but I feel like I could've done better, but it's really fluffy so I do hope it's to your liking. Also sorry for taking a freaking century to write this! For the cameo piece, Raven (@sunshineangel-reads) is your friend who listens to you talk about muffins and who ends up dating Blaise. They're very kissy. Thanks for sending in! I honestly feel like this story is more about muffins than Mattheo but yeeah, I love both.
My ending was inspired by prompt 4 of @thatdammchickennugget 's Hogmarch Challenge and since it’s still the 25th, I’m just in time.
Warning: fluffy fluffiness and kinda long for my standards
I. Kindness
You weren’t one for loud Gryffindor parties, but your friends had convinced you to come anyway. So here you were, standing outside the three broomsticks in need of some fresh air while looking up at the moon. After a few minutes you sigh and turn to head back to your friends. Just then a drunk figure stumbles through the door, almost bumping into you. You stop and he turns around looking even more drunk than he was walking. “Elloo, pretty thingy.” He flirts playfully pointing his finger in your direction, making you laugh as you had never seen Mattheo Riddle in this state. He takes two steps towards you and one step back, before focussing on you again. “Have we met?” He says leaning forward and stumbling closer to you. You chuckle and nod. “Yes, Mattheo, we’ve been going to the same school for several years.” A bright and toothy smile spreads on his lips and you find his drunk state almost adorable. “Then tell me, why aren’t you my girlfriend?” Mattheo tries to take another step towards you, but stumbles to the side and you reach for his upper arms to hold him steady. “Whoopsie.” Mattheo says, leaning closer to you again. You shake your head and get a little flustered at his flirtiness. “You. You are incredibly drunk.” You chuckle and his eyes just move from your sweet ones to your kissable lips. Your mind is freaking out as you catch on with Mattheo’s intentions, but it only lasts for a second because suddenly Mattheo tears himself loose from your hands, keeping him steady. 
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You frown and scrunch your nose as Mattheo throws up a few feet away from. You hear his painful breath and bite your lip as you watch him, pitting him. You think quickly and conjure a soda for him. Slowly you move over to him, resting your hand on his back. “Here, have this.” You whisper as he still rests his hands on his knees, unable to look away from the ground. “No, no more. I think I’ve had enough.” He mutters and you chuckle. “It’s not alcohol, but I’m glad you’ve figured out that you’ve had enough alcohol for today.” You gently stroke his back up and down and his eyes move to the cup and then looks up at you. You take a step back when he takes the cup and he nods, clearly he’s partly sobered up. “Thanks.” He says, sounding confused, and you offer him a sweet smile. “Go sit for a moment.” You suggest and point to a nearby bench. Your hand brushes his biceps as you guide him to sit down and his eyes watch you darkly. He had never felt so uneasy, he just couldn’t wrap his head around your gentle touch and concerned eyes. You sat down next to him watching him with those sweet eyes of yours and he fell silent, drinking from the cup. “Better?” You ask and your soft voice gives him goosebumps. He nods as he stares at the drink in his hand. 
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A few seconds pass in silence until a painful grunt leaves Mattheo’s lips. Again your hand rests on his back. “Do I need to walk you to the common room?” You sound genuinely concerned and Mattheo just doesn’t know how to behave around you anymore. “I’m not a girl. I don’t need to be walked anywhere.” You’re surprised by his snappy voice and you pull away, making Mattheo regret what he said, but it was too late now. He gets up and leaves, throwing the cup in a trashcan before shoving his hands in his pockets. You watch him walk away with his head low and you’re utterly confused at the way he left, but it was Mattheo Riddle after all. You knew he could act out, but you also knew that he didn’t always mean it that way. So you shrug and go back to your friends, not knowing that Mattheo would spend the entire evening alone thinking about you. Why were you so nice to me?
II. Sweetness
It was widely known around the school: you were always snacking. However, you also like to share. After a day in Hogsmeade you would bring your friends’ their favourite candy and you would pass a candy bag around before class to give everyone that well needed sugarboost. Mattheo found the gesture sweet, but also unnecessary. He was almost annoyed by your sweetness since he found it made you vulnerable to greedy people who would just take advantage of your generosity. Yet, you had noticed that on occasion he would take one of the really sour candies. Convinced that Mattheo only wanted one specific flavour of sour candy you made sure to get a small bag extra just for him.
Mattheo entered the classroom and immediately noticed the candy bag go around, making him roll his eyes as people that rarely talked to you suddenly pretended to be your friends, thanking you and saying you were amazing. You immediately noticed his mood get darker and you smile pleased that today you came prepared. Mattheo let himself fall next to Theo, but as soon as he sat you appeared in front of his desk. He shot you a curious look. “You lost?” He asked and Theo carefully watched the interaction between you two from the corner of his eyes. “No.” You say somewhat startled by his tone, but still smiling. “I noticed you rarely take any candy, probably because I never take anything you like, so I got you your favourite.” With a bright smile and shiny eyes you reveal the small bag of sour candies that you were holding behind your back.
Theodore can barely hide his smile as Mattheo stares with wide eyes. Due to a lack of reaction from the boy in front of you, your smile falters a little. “Not your favourites?” You whisper a bit embarrassed. Enzo’s hand reaches for the bag as he passes by. “I’ll take them, I love-” Mattheo’s eyes darken. “Paws off, Berkshire.” Your heart skips a beat at the harsh tone coming from Mattheo, but Enzo just laughs, raising his hands in defence. “They're good.” Mattheo nods and he feels himself melt as your sweet smile instantly returns. You hand them over and his eyes lock with yours for a moment. “Thank you.” Mattheo says, his voice a bit horse, revealing how weirded out he is by your kindness. “Sour candy for our sour boy.” Blaise says with a teasing smirk on his lips, while ruffling Mattheo’s hair, before quickly taking a seat next to Enzo far away from a clearly agitated Mattheo. “You don’t have to do this.” Mattheo says, inspecting the bag and you shake your head, but decide to ignore his statement. “Best to open it like this.” You say and your fingers reach for the bag in his hands. “I think I’ll manage.” Mattheo says tilting his head and you move away. “Right, sorry.” You chuckle and just then the professor walks in, so you quickly move to your seat.
Mattheo’s eyes stay on you as you grab your books while exchanging a casual word with your friend. He hated how you made him feel, how much you made him feel. Why couldn’t you just act like other girls flirty and none of this sweet and kind stuff. 
Boy is clearly weirded out by you, but also can't help but stare.
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Mattheo didn’t learn anything during the hour that passed as he was only staring at you and thinking about you. What to do with you? What to do with himself and his growing feelings? However at the end of class he did learn one very important thing, considering cupcakes. Noisy students move through the classroom, quickly heading for the door, but you and Raven aren’t in a hurry at all and continue chatting while putting your quill and books away. “No muffins?” Raven exclaims in shock and you nod with a soft chuckle. “Rae, trust me. If they had any I would’ve bought them all. They have the best. Nothing rivals the sweet texture of Honeydukes’ muffins.” Raven frowns and slings her bag over her shoulder. “Out of muffins?” You follow her through the door. “Not a single one. So I have to wait for the weekend to restock.” You explain, voice pained with the lack of muffins in your life. “Will you survive that?” Raven laughs and you shake your head. “No, I’m in agony and it’s monday.” 
Your voice disappears in the hallway and Mattheo is still packing his books, since he was too focused on listening in on your conversation. Suddenly he’s in a hurry scrabbling his notes together and hurrying through the hallways, passing a confused Draco. “Potions’ that way!” The blond slytherin yells as Mattheo speed walks in the other direction. “Do we need to check on him and make sure he doesn’t punch anyone?” Theo just shrugs and heads to class. 
***
Your day had been exhausting and homework had just killed that last bit of will to live. You drop your bag on the floor of your dorm and walk over to your bed, noticing a rather large box and an envelope addressed to you. 
These are for the sweetest girl I know. Please don’t share, it’s okay to keep some things just to yourself. M.
You frown and flip the card, searching for a name. Disappointed that you don’t know who the card is from you move to open the box. An overjoyed yelp has your friends run into your room. “You okay?” You turn around to your worried friends rushing through the door. Your lips are already on the muffin in your hand and you nod, taking a bite. “I’m better than okay! I’m great! Look, muffins!” You take a step to the side and reveal the box with muffins on your bed and your friends laugh. “Who are they from?” You moan as you take another bite. “My lord and saviour.” Is the only answer you can give them.
III. Information is key
Mattheo could hear Raven’s giggling through the door, but as long as it wasn’t moaning there really was no reason to not walk in. Raven yelps and Blaise is quick to throw the sheets over her. “You’re early?” Mattheo smirks at Blaise’s question. “How are those tutoring lessons about magical creatures going? Learned anything new yet now that your tutor is-” “It got a little late so Rae stayed over.” Blaise explains before Mattheo said anything inappropriate. Mattheo nods in understanding. “She just stayed over. So if I pull the sheets you’ll both be wearing clothes, right?” Blaise’s tongue moves in his mouth and the hufflepuff girl in his bed pushes the sheets down just below her chin and gives Mattheo an innocent smile. “Hi.”
“What do you want, Matt?” Blaise sighs. “Chill, I’m not here for you. I’m here for the lady.” Blaise frowns and Raven’s brown eyes go wide. “Me?” Mattheo raises his eyebrows and nods. “Unless there’s another lady under those sheets…” Blaise groans and gives Mattheo a dark glare, urging him to move it. “I just need to know what’s up with that weird girl that you always hang out with.” Mattheo doesn’t mention your name in an attempt to sound uncaring and nonchalant about you, but the truth was he knew a lot about you. Raven’s eyebrows knit together. “Weird girl?” Mattheo rolls his eyes. “Yeah, the weird and always nice one.” Raven purses her lips as she thinks. “All my friends are nice.” She argues, getting up a little and Blaise wraps an arm around her to make sure the sheets stay around her body. “Well the pretty, weird and nice one.” Mattheo explains rather annoyedly, but this time Raven figures it out and sighs. “You mean (y/n).” Mattheo nods.
“What about her?” Raven asks and Mattheo rolls his eyes. “What’s her deal?” Raven frowns, why was Mattheo being so incredibly vague and weird about you. “Why is she always so nice?” Raven tilts her head at his absurd question. “Because she’s a nice person.” Mattheo sighs, not satisfied with the answer. “Yes, but there has to be something wrong with her?” Raven moves to sit up a little more and Blaise moves with her keeping the sheets close around her body, making sure not to reveal a single piece of skin. “Nothing’s wrong with her. She’s a sweet girl and even on bad days she makes the best out of everything. She likes snacking, either candy or any baked goods. She loves fireworks and chocolate milk. That’s it. Normal, sweet, happy (y/n).” Mattheo nods, finally making peace with the answer.
“Okay, fine. I’ll leave you two to it then. You have like an hour before everyone else returns.” Mattheo heads for the door, only stopping for a moment. “Thanks, Rae. And good luck with your new found idiot.” Blaise rolls his eyes and Raven giggles, turning her head towards Blaise. “He called you my idiot.” 
Now that Mattheo is gone, Blaise relaxes and falls back down on the bed. Raven rests on top of him. “What’s up with Riddle?” Blaise kisses her. “It’s Matt, just ignore him.” His hands roam her body and the kiss gets more passionate, until Raven pulls away. “Is he into her?” Blaise rolls his eyes. Damn, you Matt. “Yes, kinda, but he doesn’t know it yet.” Raven opens and immediately closes her mouth, confused by his answer. How does one not know that he likes someone? “Hasn’t (y/n) told you about what happened at the three broomsticks party a few weeks ago?” The hufflepuff shakes her head. “What happened?” Blaise can hear the curiosity in her voice and chuckles. “Matt got piss drunk and said some embarrassing flirty stuff before throwing up almost in front of her.” Raven’s eyes go wide. You had not told her any of this. “And like some princess in shining armour she took care of him and it freaked him out and he was a bit weird, but what surprised him even more was that she didn’t tell anyone about the embarrassing evening. So ever since that incident he’s getting softer and softer for her.” Raven huffs not believing what Blaise’s telling her. “Riddle soft?” She chuckles, but then something dawns on her. “The muffins! It was him wasn’t it? She gave him candy and he was so weird and rude about it and then those muffins showed up.” Blaise chuckles, but turns serious rather quickly. “Just promise me not to say anything to Mattheo about this, he’s struggling but he’ll figure it out.” Raven nods and kisses Blaise.
IV. Up to something
Annoyed in advance, Mattheo walked over to the Weasley twins sitting at the gryffindor table. “I need a favour.” He announced and both guys looked up, amused. “Why would we help you?” They sing in choir. Having anticipated this reaction, Mattheo coolly lays a few galleons on his end of the table, making both guys move their chin up in interest. Fred’s the first one to speak up with a bright smile. “Have I told you how big of a fan I am of Slytherin.” Mattheo raises his eyebrows, but before he can say anything George speaks up. “Your hair looks exquisite today.” Mattheo sighs. These guys, are they for real? “I need a favour not some shit ass compliments.” Fred tilts his head. “What do you want?”
You enter the great hall and spot Mattheo talking to twins. When you walk in their direction you hear them sing “A muffin?”, having immediately caught your interest you suddenly pop up next to mattheo. “Did I hear something about muffins?” You chuckle, but Mattheo just gives you a dirty look. “Didn’t anyone ever teach you not to eavesdrop? You didn’t hear shit, okay?” You nod, looking at him through your lashes. “I’m sorry.” Your sad apology makes Mattheo grimace. “Don’t let people be so rude to you.” Mattheo snaps and now you’re just utterly confused. “Sorry.” You blur out which makes Mattheo frown and walk away. “Pathetic.” He mutters and you look at the floor. Fred and George shake their heads. “Just ignore him, he’s just extra cranky. Don’t take it personally.” You smile and take a seat opposite of the twins. “What were you talking about anyway?” You ask and they look at each other for a moment. “You see that pile of money?” Fred asks and you nod. “That includes a fee to keep quiet.” George explains and you nod, knowing they won’t talk. 
Mattheo takes a seat next to Theo at the slytherin table, both guys watching him. Blaise is the first to speak. “Did I just really hear you tell her she’s pathetic?” Mattheo’s eyes shoot up to his friend. “What is it with people listening in on my conversations today?” Theodore chuckles and looks at his friend with a smug smile. “Look, you're gonna have to work on that flirting of yours.” Mattheo’s dead eyes move to Theo as he seriously considers if his face is worth the punch. “Let’s not forget that when Raven first complimented Blaise’s shirt, he laughed and said ‘it’s a guy’s shirt, you can’t like me’ and then walked away like she was the crazy one.” Blaise looked at his plate. “Thanks for bringing that up mate.” 
***
You really need to put an extra lock on your door, because when you got to your dorm you were surprised by another box and note on your bed. 
Allow me to take you to the Yule ball? Ps. if you say yes, you get to wear the dress. M.
You stare at the note for several seconds even though you had already read the message. Then you quickly open the drawer of your nightstand so you can compare the note you received with the cupcakes. “It’s the same person?” You whisper as you notice the similar handwriting. You sit down on your bed while a deep blush creeps up on your cheeks. Your heart goes faster and faster and you can’t hide your smile anymore, pressing your lips into a line. Your mind runs wild. Who is this person? After a second another thought creeps up. The box? You were laying right next to it, but had totally forgotten about it as your mind went wondering who the mystery person was. You jump up and study the box and the perfect ribbon around it. Without opening it you knew it would be perfect. Carefully you open it and gently you pull the dress out of the box, immediately holding it in front of you and checking it out in front of the mirror. Mystery person has taste… and has a date. You smile to yourself in the mirror.
V. Fireworks and love
Mystery dates are fun in theory, but in reality it had you stressing. Who is it? Where will we meet? Will he show up? How does this person even know I said yes? Well he did know I liked muffins so they’re spying on me for sure… 
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Mattheo watching you enter the great hall, so in love you and so terrified of love.
The night of the Yule ball had been fun. You had danced with your friends and had gotten a million compliments about your dress, but as amazing as your night had been your mind was only concerned with one thing: your mystery date. Anticipation had filled your brain and heart the last few days and now you felt like you were going to explode. Standing alone you scan the room searching for any clue to who it could be, when Raven and Blaise join you. “Do you think he chickened out?” You wonder out loud and Raven wants to speak up but Blaise cuts in. “Maybe you should get a muffin at the buffet.” You frown, that was not even an answer to your question. With your eyes still scanning the people dancing, you turn down his offer. “Not in the mood.” You state dryly and Blaise’s face falls, but you don’t notice and neither does Raven. “She just wants the guy to reveal herself.” Raven says emphasising ‘the guy’ as she looks at Blaise, making you turn your head around in suspicion. Blaise chuckles nervously as he sees you narrow your eyes. “Just get a muffin, it will make you relax.” Raven sighs. “She-” Blaise kisses her to keep her from talking and your eyebrows knit together. “I already had a snack.” You sigh, eyes returning to the dance floor. “I saw there was only one left.” Blaise argues and Raven sighs. “Will you cut it with the muff-” Again Blaise’s lips crash on Raven’s to keep her from talking. When his lips finally move away from hers she huffs. “I feel like you’re limiting my freedom of speech with your kissing.” Blaise raises a sassy eyebrow at Raven. “Are you complaining?” A playful smile tugs on her lips and they close the distance between them, leaning in for yet another kiss. 
You groan and decide to go look for that last muffin anyway. When did they become so cheesy? And where in Merlin’s name is my date? You sigh, inspecting the table filled with all kinds of deliciousness, but nothing catches your eye as you're still occupied, wondering why your mystery date is keeping you waiting. A weak half smile tugs on your lips as you spot that last muffin and almost as a reflex you immediately reach for it. However it jumps away and you tilt your head. Did that muffin just jump? Again your reach for it, telling yourself that you did not just see it move away. Again it jumps up and you look around if anyone else noticed it, but everyone else was preoccupied with their date or friends. You narrow your eyes. I don’t have a date, but I will have this muffin. You move in as fast as you can but it starts to float. Whoever thinks this is funny is in the wrong. I’ll not chase a muffin around. You cross your arms. The muffin moves closer and you think this is your chance, but when you try to snatch it, it distances itself again, further from the table this time. You huff. Fine it’s not like I have anything better to do. 
Determined you follow the muffin until it brings you outside and you lose it in the darkness. “Lumos.” You whisper and move around the empty courtyard. “You shouldn’t chase floating food. Enchanted food isn’t that safe.” You spin around to meet Mattheo smirking at you with his hands in his pockets, his eyes scanning you. “How do you know I was chasing floating food? It could’ve had little legs?” Mattheo opens his mouth but your bizarre argument has him fall silent for a moment and smile. “I know, because I asked Fred and George to make it float.” Your eyes widen at his calm statement and Mattheo chuckles at your surprise, moving closer to you and you notice the courtyard light up as he moves. Your eyes adore the soft lights and you put your wand away. “I didn’t want other people around, when I asked you for our first dance. I didn’t want anyone to stare and judge. I wanted a moment just between us.” You feel yourself drawn to him, his soft voice and warm eyes making you fall in love with slytherin. 
Feeling safe around this gentle Mattheo you take a step closer to him, fingers entangling with the fabric of your dress to lift it slightly. “Did you buy this?” Mattheo smiled his sweetest smile and nodded ever so slightly, like he was almost embarrassed to admit he did all these things for you. “I needed something to convince you to say yes.” You blush, but bravely take another step towards him. “You already had a yes when you got me those muffins… or even before that.” Even though you whisper the last part he focuses on those words. Does she like me? 
You both look towards the castle as you hear the music change and a small smile tugs on your lips as you recognise it as one of the songs you had to learn by heart during those awkward dancing lessons in the weeks leading up to the Yule ball. Mattheo can’t help melting as he notices your soft smile in the dime light. “May I have this dance?” He says, bowing and offering his hand. You had always liked him. More than liked him, but you never dared or allowed yourself to act on those feelings, because he’s Mattheo Riddle. He gets into pointless fights and hangs out with a different crowd than you, different girls. But here he was, in front of you asking you to dance with him. It takes a second for you to reply, but you nod and instantly feel your whole body heat up as your hand touches his. 
It doesn’t even feel like dancing, it's more like you’re featherlight steps on a cloud as Mattheo guides you perfectly. His touch is gentle and yet firm enough to keep you from worrying that you’ll ruin the dance by missing a step. You drown in his eyes and his lips curl at your dreamyness. He didn’t even know how badly he needed someone to drown his eyes until you were in his arms. “Where’s your mind at?” Mattheo whispers curiously and you look away for a second, but you can’t keep your eyes away from his for long. “I- I was wondering… why me?” Mattheo fails to hold back a soft laugh at your silly question. To him it was obvious that it had to be you. You were simply perfect. He was in love with you. You were on his mind constantly. However, he didn’t dare say that, because that would be weird. With dreamy eyes you watch him and he feels himself get a little flustered as part of him wants to confess, while also wanting to run away and hide from you and his feelings for you. “I- I just-” 
Fireworks. Startled, you look up and Mattheo immediately pulls you against him as a protective reflex. You relax as you watch the wonderful fireworks, but hear Mattheo groan in annoyance, making you turn your head a little. Mattheo shakes his head. “I’m sorry. I should’ve never trusted something so important with the Weasley's. It wasn’t supposed to happen yet.” Your eyes move between him and the fireworks. “Raven mentioned you loved fireworks.” Mattheo whispers, partly hoping you wouldn’t hear it. Which makes you again wonder: “Why me?” 
Students come running outside, crowding the courtyard and watching the fireworks, but your eyes stay on Mattheo, enjoying the sound of fireworks, as you wait for his response. “Because I want your love, only yours and I’ll do anything to have it… That’s why I did all these silly things.” Mattheo’s heart races as he confesses something so scary. “You have it, Mattheo Riddle, all my love, you have it.” You whisper as you lean towards him and he happily meets your lips for a soft kiss. Ignoring everyone around you, this was your moment and it was perfect.
Feedback is always welcome!
Word count: 4522
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hayatheauthor · 10 months
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Desi/Arab Writing Prompts Part 2
"The bride hides the groom's name in her Mehndi and if he finds it then they're meant to be together for all eternity."
"And if he doesn't?"
She looked over his shoulder nervously at the question, her eyes locking on the tall figure hiding amongst the shadows of their wedding hall with wide black eyes transfixed on the man before her.
"Well, then they don't last very long." 
Prompts Masterlist
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strang3lov3 · 11 days
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Chevelle
Summary- (joel miller x virgin!reader) Joel figures out that you’re the one who hit his baby, his precious 1964 Chevrolet Chevelle. He needs you to make it right, but he doesn’t want your money ❤️‍🔥🍆 (5k words)
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Tags- MDNI hot girls can’t drive, implied age gap, virgin!reader, we're calling him tender dark!joel, soft!dom joel, tender dubcon (power imbalance, joel solicits sex from reader, no explicit consent but reader is into it) reader has a luscious bush, Joel walks you through handjobs, blowjobs, fingering, oral, unprotected piv, creampie, come eating, loss of virginity. Joel is clothed and reader is not.
A/N- Writing this is how I spent my spring break. Hope you love it 🩵 Thank you @noxturnalpascal for all of your help editing and your encouragement.
Based on mine and @beefrobeefcal shared prompt where we asked, "What would happen if reader damaged Joel’s vehicle?” Her fic is here and it’s one of my favorite things I’ve read!! Kiki has such a beautiful voice in her writing and I love all the details she adds to her fics.
Pawn shop by @toxicanonymity came to mind when I wrote this story and was a source of inspiration. Also worth a read, I have nothing but love for Tox’s writing 🩷
It’s late when you get off your shift at Tony’s, the shitty Italian restaurant you’ve been working at for far too long. It doesn’t pay much and you’ve considered working a new job to save up and move out of your brother’s house, but you’ve been putting that idea off for a variety of reasons. One of them being Joel. 
Joel’s your neighbor, a sexy, older man you’ve got a certain fondness for. His hair used to be more brown but it’s grayer now, same with the scruff on his face. He’s got sparkling, chocolatey eyes and a sharp nose set above a thick, downturned mustache. He always looks a little dirty when you see him, with dirt caked into his forehead wrinkles and grease smeared along his temple or his jaw. He’s always either fresh off a contracting job or working on his car. He’s got this cute little Chevy he spends his nights and weekends with, a 1964 Chevrolet Chevelle, baby blue.
Joel was one of the first people to welcome you to the neighborhood and even helped you move your stuff into your brother’s house, though helping you implies he let you do any work. Joel offered you a pop from his fridge and then took over entirely, putting both himself and your brother to work moving all of your stuff in. You didn’t lift a finger that day. 
-
You can’t seem to pull your eyes from the little green glowing letters on your dash, watching letters and numbers on the screen roll on by. 12:37 A.M. 101.9. Paper Bag - Fiona Apple.  You’re so out of it. You yawn and blink a couple of times, focusing back on the narrow roads of your neighborhood. It’s so poorly lit over here, and it doesn’t help that one of your headlights is out. Joel’s been bugging you to let him fix that, he says it’ll only take five minutes.
You turn onto your street and bam. You’re wide awake now. You just hit something. 
You hit Joel’s car. Joel’s fucking car. What the fuck is it doing on the street? He always has it safely kept in his garage. Oh dear god, the panic is setting in. This is Joel’s baby. You just hit his baby, his pride and joy. 
You can’t even bring yourself to assess the damage you’ve inflicted upon his dear Chevy. Probably dented to shit, but you don’t really wanna know. Instead, you just pull your foot off the brake, press your remote control garage door opener, then pull into your garage as you press your lips together tightly. You’re surprised and relieved to find that there’s hardly a scratch on your own car. Joel won’t know. He won’t.
The next morning, you’re sipping on your coffee as you check your mailbox. Joel’s outside his house, loading up his work truck with some tools and supplies. He waves to you and you wave back, a small stack of mail in your hand. 
“Whose mail you got today, sweetheart?” he calls to you. 
You check the names on some of the letters. “Davidsons’ and Pierces’,” you answer through a chuckle. Joel rolls his eyes and laughs. The incompetent mailman is a running joke amongst yourself, Joel, and your other neighbors. He never seems to deliver anything to the right address, so you and your neighbors are often hand delivering each other your misplaced mail.
You laugh with Joel until you notice his smile disappear. He’s narrowing his eyes on his Chevy. Your heart drops as he steps closer to the vehicle, then pinches his nose in frustration. Fuck. Joel stomps back to his work truck, haphazardly tosses something in the bed and then slams the tailgate. Yeah, he’s fucking pissed. Your neck and your face heat in shame as you quickly run back inside.
-
In the two weeks since Joel’s car was hit, he’s been working to repair it tirelessly. He’s ordered a new tail light, since whoever hit his car shattered it and he’s spent a pretty penny ordering the exact shade of baby blue paint to touch up all of the scratches. Joel only trusts himself to touch his car, but the situation necessitates that he’ll have to take it in to a local repair shop to get the dents out. Fucking fantastic. 
When Joel gets off work tonight, he notices he’s got some packages on his doorstep, hoping it’s the shit he ordered for his car. He’ll open them shortly, but he first notices that one of the packages is addressed to you. Go figure, he thinks, chuckling to himself. He walks the package over to your house, noticing your car is parked outside of the driveway. And it’s backed in too, which is odd. Joel assumes your car must’ve been blocking your brother’s, so he probably played musical chairs with your cars to get his out and then backed yours up onto the driveway. You never back your own car in the driveway, and Joel’s pretty sure it’s because you don’t know how. You probably can’t parallel park, either. He’ll have to show you how to do that sometime.
What’s also new is a bit of baby blue paint on your red Honda Civic’s exterior, right by your headlight, the same headlight he’s been nagging you to let him fix. Joel bites the inside of his cheek. Interesting. He knocks on your door, package in hand, but he’s met with no answer. No biggie. He leaves the package on your porch and goes back to your car, inspecting the paint once more. He scoffs in astonishment and walks home. Unbelievable. 
-
The next evening, you check your mailbox after forgetting to do so earlier. As always, you never have just your own mail. This time you’ve got Joel’s. You walk it over to Joel’s house with the intention of dropping it off on his porch and going back home, not wanting to bother him as he works on his Chevy but his whistle startles you. “Hey you,” he says. “C’mere.”
“O-oh,” you stutter. “I’m just dropping off your–”
“Yeah, I know. Just c’mere a minute,” Joel says. “Got a fuckin’ bone t’pick with you.”
Your palms are beginning to sweat. He doesn’t know anything. Maybe he just wants some company while he works on his car, it wouldn’t be the first time. But still, there’s something about his tone. You step off of his porch and cut through his lawn to get to his garage. Once inside, you help yourself to a root beer from his refrigerator. Something cold and fizzy and sweet to help you calm your nerves.“Oh, sure, help yourself,” Joel mumbles. He notices your fingers slipping off the tab of the pop can and pulls it from your hands, then opens it for you. He’s wearing a stained Prince and the Revolution t-shirt and a slightly too tight pair of jeans that squeeze his ass just so. His garage is decorated with old license plates, posters, other odds and ends. 
“Thank you,” you whisper. 
Joel says nothing as he walks to his work bench. He pulls a lightbulb out of a cardboard box and waves it in your direction, he’s only a couple of feet from you. “Ordered the wrong bulb,” he tells you. 
You can only nod. You think about maybe making a joke about the mailman screwing it up somehow, but you bite your tongue. You don’t trust yourself not to stutter right now.
“M’sure you saw, my baby here’s all banged up,” Joel puts the bulb back in the box and leans against his work bench, facing you. “Happened a couple weeks ago.”
“Mm,” you hum.
“Hit and run, can you believe that?” 
“No, I can’t. That-that’s terrible.”
“I know it is. And here I thought we had a nice neighborhood…” he trails off before speaking again, “You think you know someone, huh.” 
Someone. So he has someone in mind? “Yeah, it’s terrible…what happened to your car. Can’t believe someone would uh…would do that, knowing how you, your car…yeah. Terrible.”
Joel stares at you for a minute before speaking again, taking note of how you can’t seem to hold eye contact with him. He steps closer to you.
“You wouldn’t know a thing about it, right?”
“Yes,” you answer, quickly realizing your word mishap when Joel raises his eyebrows. “No, yeah. I don’t know–yeah, nothing,” you sip your root beer before fidgeting with the pop tab and shifting your weight from one foot to the other. 
Joel notices. “Squirmin’ an awful lot over there, sweetheart. You got something you wanna tell me?” You shake your head, still playing with the tab on the pop can. Joel removes it from your hand, his fingers gracing over yours before placing it on the workbench. He’s moving closer to you now, matching your pace as you walk backward until the back of your legs hit his car. You gasp, he stands so tall and imposing in front of you. “Easy,” he warns. “You be careful with her.”
“Yeah, I know. Always,” you reply. Your voice is beginning to shake. 
Joel hums at your response. “Not always, though, sweetheart. Think you were pretty careless with my baby a couple weeks ago.” 
The familiar pressure behind your eyes is beginning to build as tears are pricking your waterline, “I don’t know what–”
“Awh, don’t do that. Don’t lie t’me.” 
 The tears spill over. You’re caught. You don’t know how Joel figured out what you did, but he did. “You’ve got a guilty conscience, dontcha?”
You nod before you can speak. “I’m so sorry,” you cry. Sobs begin to wrack your body, your tears now flowing freely. You’re so guilty. You should’ve told Joel what happened that night. It was an accident, and he might’ve been mad, but you’ve probably made it worse for yourself with your dishonesty. “I’m so sorry, Joel, it was late and I was so tired–”
Joel pulls you in a tight embrace, stroking your back with his fingertips. “Shhh, I know. I know,” he whispers in your ear,  “S’okay, sweet girl.” 
“It was so…” you try to explain, choking on your sobs and your sniffles. “So late and d-dark and I wasn’t paying attention.”
“I know. Quit your cryin’, s’gonna be fine,” Joel whispers. He pulls away from you, looking at you with those deep brown eyes of his as he wipes the tears from your face with his thumbs. Know you’ll make it up to me.”
“I will,” you agree quickly. “I’ll pick up some more shifts, Joel, and I’ll save and–”
“Oh, no. Not that. Save your money,” he tells you earnestly. “Somethin’ else,” Your eyes follow Joel when he leaves you for a moment to flip a switch on the wall of his garage. Something in the air changes then, a thick, heavy feeling between you both when he makes his way back to you. “Use your head, sweetheart. How are we gonna make it right?”
Your mouth is dry, your tongue swollen as you pick up what Joel’s putting down. “Let me give ya a hint,” Joel grunts, sucking in his gut slightly as he unbuttons his jeans. He wears no underwear, a thatch of coarse hair littering his skin is what you see when he pulls down his zipper. He grips your wrist and shoves your hand beneath the denim where you feel his package, already half hard. It’s warmer, thicker than you would expect. He feels heavy in your palm, his pubic hair wiry and scratchy against your knuckles. 
He doesn’t tilt his head in confusion at your hesitancy. “Don’t know what to do with all this, do ya?”
You shake your head no. “I’ve never…with anyone, before.”
“S’alright. I’ll walk ya through it all,” Joel says, seemingly unsurprised at the revelation. With your hand still on his cock, Joel pulls himself out of his jeans entirely. He’s harder now. “Like this,” he instructs, bringing your hand to his mouth and spitting in it. A pang of arousal fills your gut at the action. He pushes your hand lower and guides you to wrap your hand around his cock. It feels heavy, warm to the touch, sticky with his sweat and his saliva. Rock hard, but smooth like satin. You admire him, his blushed tip, the prominent veins on his shaft. 
Your breath hitches as Joel takes control, using his strong, weathered hand to guide your own to massage his cock. “You got it,” he encourages, sensing your rigidity. “Tighter,” he instructs, squeezing his hand around yours. You’re slow to gain confidence but he’s patient, doing the work himself for now. “You move your hand all the way up, all the way down my cock,” he tells you. 
You nod in understanding. Joel drops his hand but yours stays stroking his member. He sighs and tilts his head backward as you focus on the task at hand. Without the pressure of intense eye contact, you take the opportunity to admire him, the way his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, the small drops of sweat rolling down his throat. You’re shy when he smiles at you, quickly averting your attention from him and to his cock, watching the way it twitches beneath your hand, where a little bead of precum forms. Experimentally, you swipe your thumb over the tip. “That’s it,” he whispers, stroking your cheek with the back of his hand. He ruts his hips into your hips, “Doin’ just fine.”
You stroke his cock like this for a while, gaining confidence in yourself until he stops you suddenly.
 “Is that it?” 
“Is that it,” Joel mocks with a feigned pout. “No, hon. You banged up my baby pretty good. We ain’t quite square yet.”
His leaking cock bounces against his tummy as he approaches his work bench. Your heart pounds as you can’t quite see what he’s reaching for. “Know it’s new to ya,” he says.  “Just listen to me, s’all you gotta do.”
Joel returns to you with a dirty rag in his hand and lays it on the concrete ground, then reaches for your face. He pulls your bottom lip down and lets it go to watch it bounce back up. “Knees,” he whispers, gently pushing you by your shoulders to the ground. The rag he laid on the concrete for your knees is a sweet touch, all things considered. His cock is inches away from your face as he holds it between his thumb, middle, and forefingers. He presses himself to your lips, encouraging you to open your mouth. “Give it a taste,” he instructs you. “An’ you can kiss it too, if you’re feelin’ amorous.” 
You part your lips and tentatively lick the weeping slit of his thick head just once. After a moment, taking in the saltiness of his precome, you lick him a couple more times, gaining confidence quicker than you did using just your spit soaked hand on him. Bigger stripes now, using more pressure. Like Joel advised, you kiss his cock a couple times, each kiss sloppier than the last before swirling your tongue around the tip. You’re learning it all, the softness of his skin, his musky, heady taste. 
“Give me your hand,” Joel says. “Goes right here,” He wraps your hand around the base of his cock, same as before. He places one of his hands on your head, guiding you closer to him, encouraging you to take him deeper now. You do as such, sputtering and choking when you get overzealous and take him too quickly.
Joel chuckles, “Not all at once, sweetheart. Go slow. Try it again.” This time, Joel controls the pace at which you take him. He pushes himself into your mouth and senses when it becomes too much, pauses for you. He pulls his hips back, then rocks back into your mouth, building a slow, shallow pace for you to get used to. 
He’s pushing his cock deeper into your mouth. His tip teases the back of your throat as he whispers, “Little more. Be brave,” You gaze up at him, searching his eyes for some sort of approval. He nods with his brows furrowed. “Do it for me, hon.”
You allow him to fuck himself deeper in your mouth now, your eyes pricking with tears as you gag and sputter on his cock. This time, Joel doesn’t stop himself. He’s grunting, groaning, savoring the warmth of your wet, soft mouth. “So good,” he tells you before tapping your hand, reminding you to put it to use.
What you can’t reach with your mouth, you massage with your hand as you cup his balls with your other. You and Joel work in tandem, him drawing in and out of your mouth as you bob your head and flick your tongue against his shaft. Your jaw is sore with the newness of it all, and just as you’re becoming used to the thickness of his cock between your lips and on your tongue, he pauses. “M’gonna stop you now,” Joel mumbles as he pulls out of your mouth, his eyes focused on your swollen lips and how the string of saliva connected from them to his cock breaks. “S’your turn.”
“My turn?”
“Mhm. It’s etiquette, hon,” Joel says with a grunt, lifting you to your feet. He reaches between your bodies and unbuttons your pants, pushing both them and your underwear down your legs. “Always return the favor.” Joel lifts you slightly, sitting your bare ass on the hood of his car, then pulls your pants off your legs the rest of the way. “Arms up,” he tells you. He lifts your shirt off of your body, unhooks your bra and lets it fall to your lap. You’ve never been so vulnerable, so exposed in front of someone before.  Instinctively, you cover your chest with your arms and cross your legs. 
“You’re shy,” he whispers. Joel drapes your clothing over his shoulder before reaching for your arms, removing them from your chest and placing them on either side of your body. “Stay like this,” He holds your knees next, uncrossing your legs and spreading them wide for his view. 
Joel takes in your body and admires your wet cunt, how your thick curls frame it beautifully. A shiver goes down your spine as his eyes scan the rest of your body before he holds intense eye contact with you as he folds your clothes, placing them in a neat pile next to you on his car. You watch his chest rise and fall with steady breaths as he drops to his knees, situating himself between your thighs.
He presses a sloppy kiss against your inner knee, then another on your other leg. He kisses his way up your inner thigh, nipping at your flesh and soothing the marks with his tongue. He holds your legs firmly apart, knowing your instinct is to shut them when he reaches your cunt, his hot breath fanning over your center. “Wider,” he whispers, “I gotcha.”
The once cool metal of Joel’s car is now hot and slick under your sweaty, trembling palms. Your pulse beats as you look up at the garage ceiling, lacking the courage to look at Joel between your thighs. “Relax for me,” he tells you. You try. 
You gasp when he finally begins exploring you, first his thumb parting open your folds. Adding a couple more digits, he hums in satisfaction as he finds you’re already wet, your slick glistening on his fingers. He dips one of those fingers inside of you slowly, watching how you react to his touch. You twitch and fight to keep yourself still and silent as he adds a second finger, curling it rhythmically and stroking that sweet spot inside you. 
“Oh, god,” you moan as he dives into your cunt, the soft and warm, private place between your thighs, his mouth now joining where his fingers touch. His tongue is hot and wet as he drags it through your sex, circling your clit with it. “Joel, please.”
Joel’s satisfied as he hears sounds of pleasure fall from your lips, feeling your hips bucking and grinding gently against his mouth. He sucks one fold, nips at the other as he curls his fingers inside you rhythmically. With the hand that’s not teasing your pussy, he digs his fingers into the soft flesh of your thigh. “Quit squirmin’ on my car,” he warns with a firm squeeze to your thigh, hard enough to bruise you. “Ya tryin’ to scratch her again?”
His wiry stubble drags across your skin, scratching gently against the inside of your thighs. You can feel it building up quickly, that hot, sparkling feeling deep in your core as he works you, sucks your clit between his lips. 
“Please,” you cry, the only word you can form at the moment. 
“I know, hon,” he murmurs, escalating his efforts on your pussy. Sucking, licking, curling his fingers harder. He works you through your orgasm, feeling you gush against his mouth, your arousal dripping down his fingers and pooling into the palm of his hand. Your hands fly to his scalp, twitching and jerking from the sensitivity with your fingers tugging on his curls when he licks a stripe up the seam of your cunt. 
Joel pulls away from your center with a satisfied grin, lips shiny, his facial hair damp. He rises, standing above you, and sloppily kisses your lips. You’ve never tasted your own arousal before. His strong hands find your ass cheeks, pulling you closer to where he wants you.
From there, you gasp when he slides his cock through your slick folds, rubbing thick head against your sensitive clit and watches how you react to his touch. “What do you think I’m doin’ to ya next?”
“Joel,” you whimper, your hips chasing his movements, following where his cock teases your cunt. 
“Yeah, you know what I’m doin,” he purrs. “Crossin’ it all off your list tonight.”
You tense when he notches just the head of his cock in your pussy, reaching for his arm, his shoulder, any part of him you can hold. 
“Know you’re nervous,” he says softly, rubbing circles into your thighs. “But s’just me an’ you here. Wider, hon. Spread your legs for me.”
You nod quickly, following suit and spreading your legs to accommodate him. “Like this?”
“Yeah, like that. S’perfect, hon, that’s all I need from you. C’mere,” Joel adjusts his hold on you before inching his cock into you a bit more. You’re so tight, squeezing him hard and whining through the stretch as he pushes into you further, the gradual slide inside your body causing him to grunt quietly. “Relax for me,” he groans through a strained breath, parting your insides as he’s sheathed himself inside you fully now. “Bite me f’ya need to, sweetheart. It’ll be okay. You’ll get used to it.”
It aches, but the pain dulls as Joel lets you get used to the feeling, the newness of his cock inside you. He holds you close and you take advantage of his suggestion, biting softly into the flesh of his neck, tasting the saltiness of his skin as you whimper quietly. Joel groans, his eyebrows furrowing together. “Shh,” he hushes, “You’re okay, hon. You’re doin’ alright.”
Joel slowly pulls out of you and fills you up again. “That’s it, sweetheart,” he praises as you tilt your hips, opening yourself to accept more of him. You’re humming into his neck as his cock recedes and then pushes in once more. “Eyes on me now. There it is, easy. Easy.”
You do as instructed, pulling your face away from him to meet his gaze. His sparkling brown eyes stay on yours as he pulls out of you, pushing into you slowly, deliberately. You hold onto his neck, his broad shoulders, clutching the fabric of his sweat dampened shirt as he builds a steady pace now. He holds you close to his body, one of his hands traveling up your body and groping your bouncing breasts, teasing your sensitive nipples.
“You just follow my lead,” Joel says, fucking you faster now. His fingers are pressed firmly into your waist now as he rolls his hips against yours. The pain is gone now, dissipated with his continued languid thrusts into you. You feel so full, so satisfied with his thick cock inside you, massaging your insides.
He fucks you steadily but gently, maintaining a quick rhythm. You didn’t know sex could make you feel this way, so much pleasure.  You’re moaning freely, overwhelmed with emotion, tears flowing freely down your cheeks. God, you love it, and it’s nothing but pure pleasure. 
Joel’s not oblivious to your enjoyment. He’s watching you, your face contorting, he’s listening to your moans and your cries, feeling you shiver and twitch beneath his touch and how it’s all because of him, all of your pleasure at the hands of Joel and only ever Joel. He feels a sort of carnal sense of power over this, the effect his touch has on you. You’re soft, so soft and all for him, your flesh for his hands and his teeth alone to squeeze, dig into, to bite on. 
You reach for his arm and guide his hand to your center, pressing his fingers against your clit as that familiar tightness in your gut begins to build once more. “Please,” you beg. 
“Thought this was supposed to be a deal for me. Didn’t need to hit my car f’ya needed me like this,” he taunts, laughing breathlessly. But Joel obliges, of course he obliges you. He moves his calloused fingertips in circles over your clit, coaxing out your release. “Takin’ me so good, sweetheart. Look at you, m’gonna make you come again. Makin’ out like a fuckin’ bandit, aren’t you?”
Indeed you are. It’s not long before you’re coming for him. With his ministrations on your clit, his thrusts now faster, harder, deeper, you’re coming undone for him as his name pours from your lips, long and slow like honey. With your lips parted open, you’re twitching and shuddering against him as you watch his face, letting yourself go. You whimper and moan, and your release is volcanic in the way it washes over your body so fiercely. Heavy, vivid waves of pleasure washing over you the way lava rolls down the earth. Slow, fiery, intense.
Your pulsing cunt milks Joel’s own climax, his orgasm crashing through him in such a way that he loses focus on you. His eyes screwed shut, the noises he’s making louder than he intended–what starts as a grunt turns into a moan, long and libertine as he fucks you harder than he probably should as you whimper in overstimulation. His thrusts turn harder and frenzied as he milks himself with your cunt, spurting hot ropes of his come inside you. You take everything he gives you, feeling so warm and full of his spend. 
His movements then begin to ease, slowing down some more until he eventually stills inside of you. He takes the quiet moment to check on you, holding your face in his hands as he makes sure you’re okay. Your chest heaves as he wipes your tears, but you silently nod, reassuring him that you’re alright.
With a soft grunt, he pulls out of you. He watches how your combined arousal spills on the baby blue paint of his Chevelle, then uses his thumb to push a bit of his escaped come back inside you. Such a lewd action from the man. 
Joel helps you to your feet, steadying you as you stand on shaky legs. He reaches for your clothes from the hood of his car, helping you dress yourself. “Didn’t want ‘em to get dirty,” he explains. “Everything’s covered in fuckin’ dirt and grease in here.”
“Thank you,” you smile shyly. Joel opens the garage door, the once peachy and blue sky now inky black. You didn’t realize how much time had passed. You take off back to your house, but Joel grips your bicep before you can step any further. 
 “Nuh uh,” he tuts. “Ya already hit my car, hon, you don’t wanna leave your mess on the hood now too, do ya?” Joel gestures to your combined arousal on the hood of his Chevelle, swipes his pointer finger through the mess and pushes it between your lips. Your brows furrow at the taste, that salty, heady flavor you’ve never tasted before now. “Use your tongue, sweetheart.”
“You want me…”
“Lick it up,” he instructs in a quiet voice. Joel figured he might’ve let you off too easy, seeing as how you came twice–once on his tongue and once on his cock when this was all supposed to be for him. He bends you over the hood of his car, groping your ass as he leans over your shoulder to inspect your work, making sure it’s a job well done. “Good girl,” he praises, watching you lick his car clean. When you’re done, he kisses you softly.
He walks you home, dropping you off on your doorstep. You’re not quite sure what to say, whether you should apologize again, thank him, say goodnight. Joel fills the silence for you. “Gonna teach you how to drive right one of these days. Keep you out of another mess like this one, hm?” he smirks as he kisses your cheek. “Goodnight, hon.”
If you enjoyed, please reblog, leave me a comment, and/or send an ask 🩷 your words mean the world to me and your interaction keeps me motivated to write. Love you all <3
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From now on I’ll be sharing cat pics at the end of my fics. Hope you don’t mind 🐈‍⬛😻
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milksnake-tea · 6 months
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━━ arms of gold .
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❀ ˎˊ- prompt: how they hold you in bed ❀ ˎˊ- characters: dan feng, dan heng, luocha, blade, jing yuan ❀ ˎˊ- warnings: heavy in physical contact, dan feng gets a little possessive whoops ❀ ˎˊ- a/n: scratches head hey guys !!!!!! writing this to make myself feel better, yes i still have some requests but i'll get to them! just need to find the motivation so let me write some sillies heart eyes (also im aware that IL is not dan feng but like i need to fit my aesthetic so. heart eyes. also yall can really see who i had inspiration for LMAOOO (sorry bladie :( )
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Dan Feng is, quite simply, a brat, and a brat who won't let you go the second he's behind closed doors. The second that the day is done, and he's freed from the grasp of his title, he pounces and clings onto you like a cat, forcing you to drag him around the house whenever you want to get anything done.
Personally, I can see Dan Feng being very physically affectionate, although he would rather die than ever admit it. It's not like he needs to though, since everyone can see how he always has to be touching you, whether it being with his tail around your arm or his hand clinging to your sleeve.
In bed, Dan Feng prefers to be the big spoon, regardless of height difference. Only on rare occasions will he let go of his pride and allow himself to be held. So for the most part, your nights together are spent with him embracing you from behind, his mouth pressed right on your pulse as he wraps himself around you.
Sometimes you'll feel his horns bump against your head as he nuzzles you, their luminescent glow like a gentle nightlight. They glow brighter when he has good dreams, a low purr rumbling against your back as he slumbers. Similarly, his tail, taking up a good 70% of the bed, wraps around your legs while Dan Feng's are draped over your hips. Every part of him has to touch you, hold you, and remind you that you are his, and his alone.
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Contrary to his previous incarnation, Dan Heng is shy when it comes to physical contact. For the first few months in which he'd slept in the same bed as you, he'd kept himself to one side of the bed, afraid of even touching you.
When the Express was warm, he could do this easily. However, on the rare occasion that the engine can't provide as much heat as normal, Dan Heng's cold-blooded instincts take over, and his body moves to you against his will. Safe to say, when Dan Heng woke up to you, entangled in his arms, he malfunctioned and probably kicked you by accident.
Dan Heng can work with being a big spoon or small spoon, but what's important is that he sees your face. When his nightmares strike, he needs to know that you're there, still breathing and still alive in his embrace. More than once has he traced your features while you slept, your breathing lulling him back to sleep.
But on the fluffier side, he also tends to nuzzle you as you cuddle. Just rubbing his nose against yours is such an innocent act, and yet it never fails to make him melt against you. Dan Heng isn't a very verbal person, so he prefers to show his affection for you in the subtle ways - whether that be in his acts of service, or the slightest of touches.
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If the time ever comes that Luocha is comfortable sleeping next to you, it means that he's finally grown to trust you. Luocha is used to the guards he dons around others, unused to letting it fall in another's presence.
He prefers to be the one holding you, rather than the other way around. Don't get him wrong, he loves you and adores your embrace, but to completely submit into your arms is asking a bit too much out of him. But Luocha makes up for it by telling you stories of his travels as a lullaby, keeping you at his side as he paints adventure after adventure with his voice.
Sometimes, he'd tease you for sleeping before his story ended, flicking your forehead gently as he lazily smirks at you. Even if you complain at him, Luocha only chuckles good-naturedly at you, cooing out an apology as he rubs where he'd flicked you.
Luocha always makes sure to fall asleep after you do. His heart warms as he watches you doze against his shoulder, and he can't help but trace your cheek before kissing your forehead, and closing his eyes himself.
And yet, he isn't as good as waking up before you can. On more than one occasion have you woken up to Luocha's peacefully slumbering face, just like that of a fairytale princess. His carefully practiced smile isn't there, but it doesn't make him any less beautiful. On the contrary, he is gorgeous, raw and natural, and graceful all the same.
The first time you woke him up, Luocha had been startled, panicked even, despite how gently you did it. He wasn't used to being waked up by another, much less waking up next to another. But as time passed on, he slowly grew to anticipate your touches, the tracing of his face drawing him from his dreams.
So now, when you welcome him back to reality, Luocha greets you with a smile - a tired, yet fond smile, devoid of any insincerity.
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He'll never admit it, but Blade needs to be held when he sleeps. Never does he take the first step, so unless you pull him into you yourself, he'll stay on his side of the bed, afraid of touching you and pushing the boundary.
But the second your arms are around him, he latches onto you, practically molding himself into your chest. You are his safe haven, in your arms, he doesn't need to drive away nightmares - for they never come.
His ears are always pressed against your chest, your heartbeat lulling him to sleep each and every night. His hands grasp at the back of your shirt, squeezing and kneading at your back muscles. Seldom does he ever look up at your face, content to keep his face buried in your neck, chest, or back. Yet he adores it when you run your fingers down his body, whether they trace his scars, his spine, or simply thread through his hair.
The shuddered breathes Blade lets out when you caress him are not of fear nor of lust, but of content. His skin may goosebump, and his spine tingle, but he finds that it is with your hands that he is able to rest without his past chasing him.
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Jing Yuan is somehow both the most annoying and the most comfortable cuddler here.
With Jing Yuan, there's no such thing as big spoon or little spoon. Whoever gets on the bed first is the pillow for the night, and if you're smaller than Jing Yuan, it'd be in your best interest to abstain from the mattress until the general himself decides to rest. Otherwise, you'd wake up with not one, but two lions draped over you as both Jing Yuan and Mimi keep you pinned to the bed.
But his weight isn't uncomfortable, as long as you can stick your head out to breathe (which can be difficult considering that both Mimi and Jing Yuan have a ridiculous amount of hair). On the contrary, Jing Yuan's large frame, coupled with the weight of his muscle on top of you makes you feel safe, protected.
When you're the one on top, Jing Yuan makes for one of the greatest, if not the greatest pillows on the Luofu. Whenever he breathes, his chest swells, taking you up and down with it in a rhythmic pattern. The tiniest snores he lets out rumble against you like the thunder he commands, and one arm is always around you, keeping you secured against him as he dozes in the Luofu's afternoon sun.
But be warned though, Jing Yuan is clingy, even more so than the others. His words of "5 more minutes" are really a translation for a few more hours, and it's difficult to say no to a face with his - especially if he starts pouting. You suppose it's fine, though, to be late once in a while, if it means you can see Jing Yuan's face visibly light up.
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reblogs w comments are appreciated !!
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strangersmunsons · 2 months
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Eddie, My Love! eddie munson x reader // valentine's day special series Day 2 Prompt: Chocolates 🍫 ~ 2,000 words Eddie's grumpy until he sees a familiar face in the candy aisle.
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“This is a fake holiday,” mumbles Eddie as he pushes the cart past the pink and red aisle of Bradley’s Big Buy. 
His uncle chuckles. “When you have someone to spend it with, you’ll feel differently.”
“Wayne,” Eddie deadpans, “this is just some bullshit that Hallmark made up so they could take more of our money.”
“I’m not sayin’ you need to go all commercial,” Wayne clarifies. “I just mean that when there’s someone special in your life, boy, you might be in a better mood during this month.”
Eddie’s mouth sets bitterly. He’d rather not get the ‘you’ll find someone someday’ talk right now — the last thing he needs is another reminder of how lonely he is.
Wayne senses his nephew’s reluctance to discuss the matter, and so bites his tongue. Instead, he points at a row of cans on the shelf beside them. “Do you need more tomato soup, or are you set for a while?”
~
Back at home, Eddie lays on the floor of his bedroom, staring at the ceiling. Yeah, okay, maybe Wayne had a point. Maybe he’d hate all this stupid cutesy shit less if he didn’t have to watch everyone around him enjoy it while he spent yet another Valentine’s Day alone in his uncle’s trailer, with no one to keep him company, save for a six-pack of Pabst Blue Ribbon.
The worst part of it is — and Eddie would rather die than admit this — that deep down, he thinks he really could be…romantic. 
Sure, he’s rough around the edges. He tends to be prickly, wary of others’ intentions, but it’s necessary in order for him to survive in Hawkins. The Munson name was already notorious, and his reputation preceded him; the incident with poor Chrissy Cunningham three years prior, despite his innocence, had sealed his fate as the town pariah.
But if someone could just give him a chance, a real chance, he thinks that he could make that person really happy.
He’d help around the house. Cleaning, laundry, anything you — whoever you are — needed a hand with. He’d learn to cook better so he could keep you eatin’ good. He’d plan fun dates. He’d play your favorite songs on guitar, maybe write you new ones, if he was feeling inspired…anytime you needed him, he’d be there. He’d be the most reliable, affectionate, loving — 
“Ed?” There’s a light knock on his door. 
“Come in,” he calls back.
Wayne pokes his head into the room. “I’ve got to head to the plant in a few,” he says. “While I’m gone, can you do me a favor?”
Eddie sits halfway up, propped on his elbows. “Yeah, what’s up?”
Wayne fidgets, looking apologetic. “I know we were just there, but d’you mind going back to the Big Buy to pick up some candy? It’s Mrs. Johnson’s first Valentine’s Day since her husband passed, and I meant to get her something sweet, but I forgot.”
Eddie hauls himself up off the floor. “No problem. Want anything specific?”
Wayne shakes his head. “Don’t need nothin’ fancy, just get whatever’s cheapest that still looks nice.”
“That’s the Munson way,” Eddie muses, smiling in spite of himself. 
~
Eddie reluctantly makes a turn down the seasonal aisle he had so pointedly avoided earlier, feeling depressed. Cherubs and teddy bears seem to mock him from where they sit, and he heaves a dramatic sigh. 
His eyes roam the line of cards, plush toys, endless boxes of chocolates and candies, when they finally land on you, also perusing the rows of heart-shaped packages.
Recognition flickers instantly. Eddie suddenly finds that his heart is beating very quickly in his chest.
You.
You had still been a year behind him when he finally graduated, and though he didn’t really know you-know you, he was friends with people who did. You weren’t bullied like he and the guys were, but you weren’t exactly popular, either — and so more often than not, you ran in similar circles. Gareth and Harry used to swear up and down that you were the nicest girl in Hawkins.
Because of them, he had spent brief moments with you from time to time. He thought you had been very pretty, in your own unique way, but you were also rather shy. Your exchanges were always polite and charming, even if they never broke deeper than surface-level; overall, he’d found you incredibly endearing.
He never kept in touch, but as the years went by, he had often wondered about you.
Back then, it was hard to see past his own preoccupations: he was so focused on not failing his classes, Corroded Coffin, Hellfire, his dealing gig with Rick. But in retrospect, it always seemed to him like he had missed out on something special in not taking the time to properly befriend you.
Now, against all odds, you’re right here in front of him. And he had found you attractive back then, but now? Holy shit. You’re striking to look at.
As he studies your side profile, he thinks, it’s not that your appearance has really changed much, but rather the way you seem to be holding yourself.
You used to walk quickly through the hallways with your shoulders hunched and your head down, like you were trying to make yourself as small as possible. But now your posture is relaxed, your stance casual; your head is held high and a slight smile turns up the corners of your lips. And your clothes seem different too, like maybe you’d finally found your personal style, and were dressing in the way that you truly liked.
Is this what they call kismet? Fate, destiny, whatever, maybe Eddie’s fantasy-oriented brain was jumping to conclusions, but he thinks of the floor-misery he’d been wallowing in not even an hour ago — had his internal bitching been an unintentional prayer, which was now being answered?
He takes a few cautious steps forward, trying to act natural.
You glance at him when he comes nearer and offer him a quick smile before turning back to the sweet assortment before you. 
Eddie stands next to you awkwardly, pretending to browse, hoping to see you make some gesture of familiarity, any confirmation that you might remember him as well as he remembers you. 
But nothing. The seconds tick by.
You reach for a box of chocolates and Eddie’s overwhelmed with a sense of impending doom. He starts sweating. Any second now, you would pluck a shiny, ribbon-adorned package and twirl away from him, vanishing into thin air, and the moment would be gone. His opportunity would be over, and he’d never, ever see you again.
“I’m so sorry,” he blurts out. His face turns crimson, but he blunders on anyway. “I don’t wanna bother you, but did you graduate from Hawkins High in ‘87?”
You turn to him, eyebrows raised in surprise, one arm still outstretched. A breathy laugh escapes you. “Yeah, I did.” You give him the tiniest wave. “Hi, Eddie.”
He could almost cry in relief. You do remember him.
“Hi.” He returns your wave, dopey grin unfurling on his face. 
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to ignore you just now. I didn’t think you would remember me,” you explain apologetically.
Forget you? Absurd. “Of course I remember you. How’ve you been?”
Your voice is bright, cheerful. “I’ve been good! Busy with school.”
College, of course. You had definitely been an honor roll kid. “If you’re in school, then you don’t still live in town, do you?”
“Nah, my university’s too far. I got a place near campus, but I come home every now and then.” You smile, and motion towards yourself. “Obviously.”
“Oh. Nice.” Eddie twiddles his thumbs nervously. “Are your classes going good?”
“For the most part. They’re stressful sometimes, but that’s to be expected, I guess.”
“Yeah, but you’re super smart. I’m sure you’re killin’ it up there.”
“I’m trying my best,” you reply with a modest shrug. “What about you? What have you been up to lately?” You look at him with genuine interest, like you’re truly eager to hear about how he’s doing.
Oh, what to say. He opts for simplicity. “Bartending. At the moment I’m between The Hideout and The Attic. Although, I’m thinkin’ about trying to get a job at the garage instead.”
“You should!” Your voice is sincere, full of warmth. “I bet you’d be great there — I know you did a lot of work on your van.”
A bolt of pleasure runs through him. You didn’t just remember his name and face, but you recalled some minor details about him as well. He stands a little taller. “Thank you. We’ll see if it works out, I suppose.”
There’s a brief pause. Eddie moistens his chapped lips with his tongue. “Listen…”
Do it, you coward. If she says no, she says no, and you’ll get over it. Eventually.
“Um, if you’re ever home for the weekend, would you maybe wanna hang out? Grab a coffee or something?”
You look taken aback, but not displeased. Eddie counts that as a win. 
“Sure. That would be really fun.”
He flashes you a grin. “Sick.” Then it occurs to him: you came home for Valentine’s Day weekend. Surely you’re in Hawkins because you have a date lined up with some former classmate who swooped in and asked you out after he had gone, and that’s who you were buying candy for and —
“I’m assuming you’re busy this weekend, though?” You point at the treats in front of you. “‘Cause I see you’re here to pick up the goods,” you tease him cheerfully.
“Oh, n-not really,” he stammers. “Wayne asked me to pick up something for our neighbor. I’m just an errand boy.” He swallows. “Do you have any big plans?”
“Nope,” you reply casually, lips popping the p-sound. You pull the candy you’d be aiming for before he interrupted, a pack of Hershey’s cream-filled chocolate hearts. You nod at him sagely. “I am my own Valentine this year.”
You don’t need to be. I’ll volunteer. 
Eddie musters up all his courage, rocking slightly on his feet. “Actually, if you don’t have plans…like, if you’re not seeing anybody…would you wanna go out on a date with me tomorrow?” Nerves get the better of him and he starts pouring out word-vomit, totally oblivious to the way your expression is getting softer and softer the longer he rambles. “I get that it’s Valentine’s Day, I don’t know if you think that’s really…weird for a first date, or…if you even wanna go on a date with me at all, which if you don’t, that’s totally fine and I understand —”
“I don’t think that would be weird at all,” you cut in, giving him a smile that could melt an iceberg. “Eddie, I would love to go on a date with you.”
He feels like he’s having a fever dream. This can’t be real. Is this what manifesting is? 
From now on, when he wants something, he’s gonna go cry on his bedroom floor about it. 
Painfully aware of how clumsy his proposition came out, Eddie tries to put at least one suave move on you. “Well, if we really have a date tomorrow,” he says, swiping the Hershey’s from you, “then there’s no reason for you to be buyin’ your own chocolates. Allow me.”
Ten minutes later, both of you armed with candies and a phone number apiece, Eddie escorts you across the icy parking lot to your car. You grip his arm tightly crossing over a slippery patch of asphalt, and his stomach flutters in a way it hasn’t in years.
Okay, okay. 
Maybe there is something to be said for this stupid, fake holiday.
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thank you for reading!! xoxo Valentine's Day Special Masterlist
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theawfuledges · 6 months
Text
well, i said i wanted to write size kink with halsin, and my word is my law. inspired by #9 from this prompt list: "You take me so well."
enjoy? ;D
MINORS DNI
to the marrow (halsin x gender neutral! reader, baldur’s gate 3)
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You were a marvel. 
You had been a stranger to them, offered little in return, and yet you had saved the grove from Kagha’s corruption, saved Thaniel from the shadows, saved him from the goblins.
Halsin’s lips curl into a fond smile. You gave so much of yourself to those who needed it - to the lost you met along the road, to your beloved companions, to Faerun herself, and yet what, if anything, was left for you?
You deserved sanctuary, deserved peace. 
You deserved far more than Halsin alone could give you, but, he reasoned with a quirk of his lips, there was joy to be found in the trying. 
“That’s it,” he coaxes, his hands wrapped firmly around your hips. You pant against his shoulder, knees finding purchase against the forest floor, and ease yourself down another torturous inch. 
It steals his breath, the feel of you, the heat of you. How his heart soars whilst you grip him tightly, his name all but a sigh upon your lips. How his belly grows tight with longing, with need, when you wrap fervent arms around his shoulders and beg him in that sweet voice to take you now, and take you deep.
“All in due time, sweet one,” Halsin soothes you, guiding your hips, gentle thrusts allowing you to sink further along the length of his cock. He resists the urge to glance between you, knowing that the sight of your entrance stretching around his girth will be more than enough to destroy the last shreds of his control. This night is about you, your pleasure. He mustn’t lose sight of that. 
You moan, a ragged cry pressed into the meat of his shoulder. Halsin closes his eyes to drink it in, dragging a heavy palm along the length of your spine until he can grip your shoulder and pull you closer for a kiss. Your skin is sweat-damp, smelling of earth and salt, and Halsin sets to sucking a bruise against the curve of your shoulder, laving at your flesh with his tongue and thrilling as your inner muscles flutter around his cock.
Another thrust, and he’s buried as deep as he can go, the hot, heavy length of him spearing you full. You cry out, head tilted back and hips moving in short, sharp circles. Halsin huffs a breath, half-laugh and half-moan, thrilling at the sight of you lost to your pleasure. 
“You’ve done brilliantly, my love,” he murmurs against your throat, dragging his teeth along the delicate skin there and relishing in the sound of his name falling in garbled syllables from your lips. “Look at you. You take me so well.”
“Halsin,” you breathe, half a sob, fingers raking through his hair and dragging him into a fevered kiss.
His mouth falls open beneath yours, the taste of your desperation sweet upon his tongue. You keen against his lips, fingers delving deep within his hair as your kisses turn harsh, sloppy, wet. The scent of your arousal sets upon him like a fog, clouding his sense and his wit until all that Halsin can do is grip tight to your body and bury himself deep, again, again, again - 
“A-ah - “ Your mouth falls open, pleasured mewls wrenched from your throat as Halsin’s hips snap, driving his cock deep. The slick slap of skin against skin joins the cacophony of your heavy breaths and sweet pleas for more, and Halsin is more than happy to oblige, hips pistoning and hands gripping fistfuls of your ass, dragging you down to meet each sharp thrust.
Soon enough, he knows, the others will come looking for you, driven to this secluded patch of forest by the sounds of your coupling. Halsin cares not - let them marvel at the greedy curve of your spine and the slick coating your thighs, let them tremble in the wake of your impassioned cries and the desire clinging like honey to your tongue. 
Let them hear your cry of completion, see your flesh stained with his seed. Let them watch your fingers grope blindly for his cheek, your mouth sweet, panting, open, hungry for his kiss. 
Let them come.
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flamingpudding · 2 months
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I love your writing so much but I'm here with a crack idea just imagine deage Dan is Klarion.
Dan was able to find out who he is outside of Danny then he was able to change his name Klarion Jackson Fenton/Nightingale he is still a little villain boy also now a mom boy.
Ghost King Danny is his mom young justice was so confused when Klarion you're the best gifts get your mom after not talking to him for a while to also begging them to pretend to be his friend . Justice League dark is panicking in the background about the electric being that just shows up.
Danny in full ghost king attire standing there with a plate of cookies ready to meet his son's new friends.
Thanks so much! I am glad you enjoy my writing!
Also thanks because I absolutely love this Idea/Prompt! Sooooo please enjoy this piece inspired by it! Also I haven't consumed a lot of DC material lately so i am basing this all on my memories. In other words.... I went with Tim's little team here.
Hope that's okay and that this won't disappoint.
-------------------
Dan, who was going by Klarion for some years now, had a massive problem. It was the huge kind of problem build on small bubbles of lies that then turned into this one giant bubble that was about to pop just because of one little question asked by his mom when his sister decided to throw him under the bus to deflect from herself and the fact that she was dating a demon. Don't get him wrong he still loves her, but man did he want to strangle Danielle right now.
"So Klarion, Ellie is right. When will I get to meet your friends you told me so much about?"
It was such an innocent question from his mom. And while his moms titles don't scare him, cause at some point in time they could have been his too, the happy dopey smile like nothing was wrong in the dimensions with little expectations directed at him was the scariest thing his mom could ever direct at him when he had asked THAT question.
So now Klarion was in need of a quick solution. When his mom had asked he had mumbled out a quick: "Next week maybe. We won't be busy with hero stuff then." He had started to form a plan. First of all, he needed to remember what all he had told his mom about his new and redeemed life on Earth 43 he had build for himself with the name Klarion Jackson Fenton-Nightingale.
Which fuck. There was a lot he had told his mom just so he wouldn't worry.
Cause now he also remembers that whenever he had gone out to cause some chaos he had made it seem to his mom like he was going out to bond with his new friend or help them with their hero duty. Well, in a way maybe his chaos causing could be seen as bonding. The ghostly kind, that is. And as for helping with the hero duty... he did give them work, something to do with their hero status. Anyway Klarion tried to remember all possible names he had dropped. Shit why did he also mention to his mom that he was working with heroes to make her proud? He should have name dropped some villains instead but nearly all of them were adults. He knew his mom would have frowned if he had only adult friends and no one around his age.
He was pacing his room in their castle. He need a plan, a good one at that. He knows he name dropped Robin, now Red Robin, Superboy and Impulse on a whim once. Superboy more so cause his mom had been interested in the Alien Heros of the Earth of the dimension he was partially living on now. He had mentioned Robin for the joke of knowing that there is a Dinner in an other Dimension with the same name. And because his Grandfather didn't like the Flash-clan which meant his mom didn't like them too much because of their messing with timelines either, he had mentioned being friends with Impulse on pure spite because of a punishment one day and to see their reactions. So he had to get these three on board anyway, and because for the heck of it he would get Wonder Girl involved too. It was never bad to have a girl in a friends group.
Klarion stopped his pacing. Turning towards his demonic ghost cat companion, kind of what Cujo was to his mom now. "Teekl, I think I have a plan. I will convince these Idiots, that shouldn't be a huge problem. Most of them are normale little flesh sacks." Teekl and him stared for some time at each other and after a moment Klarion huffed turning away with crossed arms. "It's a good plan don't be so sceptical, they are heroes right? They will not refuse my request!"
Well maybe Klarion should have planned this a bit better.
The next day Red Robin blinked at the witch boy up from the ground in the living room of what looked like to be an normal apartment. He had just been in Gotham, working on a case and now he was here? Looking to the left he also noticed that Superboy (the older), Impulse and Wonder Girl were also with him. They all looked stunned he observed and partially disoriented. Additionally they hadn't heard from Klarion since the last time they had foiled his plans on raging chaos upon the earth, that had been weeks ago.
"Kla-"
"I have summoned you heroes here. For the moment it is fruitless to try to leave because of the magic barrier." Okay rude to be cut of but that explained why he suddenly wasn't where he remembered to be last anymore. It was now Superboy who opened his mouth first but before he could even make a sound Klarion decided to speak over them again. "I have presents."
Four young heroes collectively blinked, confused, stunned and weirded out. As the which boy before them waved over to wards a table filled with boxes and packages. "I come in peace today, to proof that I brought these are presents, filled with various goods from different dimensions that should be to the liking of you all. Technologie, accessories, snacks, weapons, as well as clothing styles."
Red Robin shared a glance with his friends, a silent communication but before he once again could say anything Impulse was already by the table going through the stuff. They could here his 'oh's and 'ah's, which inevitably made them curious and they wandered over too. Klarion was not acting hostile at all yet but Red Robin did not trust that so he kept the which boy in clear view the entire time.
"Rob! You gotta see this! That actual futuristic Tech!"
"Look at these snacks."
"These accessories don't look to bad..."
His eye twitched when he noticed Klarion was sporting a smug look. Red Robin had to ask now, because this was not normal for the other. "Okay usually you would have started some big shot chaos plan by now. I don't buy this peace offering act and your way to formal talking. So what is going on?"
The other three, thankfully in Red Robins opinion, finally looked away from the tempting gifts and also turned their attention fully on Klarion. Who's smug smile falter as he let out a sigh and stared at them with what they could only describe as a frustrated look.
"My mom is planning to visit me."
"And?" Impulse asked between munching on three different bags of chips that where on the table.
"And he believes I am friends with you idiots."
They stared slack jawed. Impulse was pinching himself like he couldn't believe what they had just heard. Did one of their Villains, just informed them that their mom believes they were friends? Red Robin was starting to think he might be in a sleep deprived Hallucination.
"Why would she?" Wonder Girl questioned next to which Klarion glared at her with fire in his eyes.
"First of, my mom uses the pronouns he/Him. Be rude to my mom and I will find a way to make your life a permanent hell on earth." Wonder Girl blinked lifting her hands as in a sign of peace. "Second, my mom is under the believe that i work with heroes not against them. I do not have the heart to disappoint him after everything that happened in the past. So I embellished the truth a little."
"A little?" Superboy retorted sarcastically, to which they caught a light blush dusting the which boy's cheeks.
"Look my sister threw me under the bus and my mom wants to meet my friends now! So I need you idiots to play nice with me for when he visits!"
"And we will do that because?" Red Robin crossed his arms, watching their villain sceptically still not really buying this entire act. This was to strange of an behaviour change. Something was up, and he was going to get behind it.
Klarion on the other hand was starting to panic internally. His plan was not as he had hoped. The presents he had specifically gotten from other dimensions with what he believed was their interests did not work to make them simply accept his request. This was the last time he would listen to old man Vlad on how to bribe humans, he wasted his entire week on getting all that stuff. His mom was going to show up soon enough he need to have them act as his friends by then so he could remove the magic barrier. Or else his mom would notices he faked everything.
They left him no choice. He would have to throw his pride away for the sole reason to not disappoint his mom.
All four Young Justice Heroes blinked as Klarion suddenly threw himself on the ground before them into a pleading position.
"Please! I beg you, just for the time my mom is here. Please act like my friends!"
"I didn't think Klarion was a mama's boy...." Impulse whispered to the rest of them in pure disbelief as they stared stunned at the kneeling witch boy.
Cut to the heroes that noticed their teens were missing.....
"Where is he?" Batman growled at the Constantine who was sighing tiredly.
"Look mate, the way you and the other Spandex wearing friends explained it, made it sound like they got summoned by a being of the Infinit Realms." The blond man sighed lighting another cigarette eying the four heroes, Batman, Superman, Wonder Woman and Flash. Zatanna was behind him pouring over a book about the realms and trying to find a tracking spell to trace it back and to where they could have been summoned.
"Don't you have something like a tracker on your boy?" Batman only growled something under his breath to which the Brite couldn't help to arch and eyebrow. Constantine was going to say something sarcasting as Deadman suddenly appeared a panicked look on him. "The Ghost King has chosen to come to our dimension."
"Say bloody what now?" All attention that had been on the heroes and their problem of missing teenage heroes turned now to Deadman and the news he brought with him. "The ghost, shades and spirits talked, for the king has decided to visit our Dimension. They are in an uproar, no one knows of why our King is on his way."
"Bloody fucking hell!" Constantine cursed. "We are fucking screwed! Isn't that guy a fucking tyrannical eldrich war maniac?!"
Deadman nodded solemnly and Constantine uttered another hearty and colourful 'fuck'. While the heroes present exchanged worried glances, not only were their kids missing but now a, by the sounds of it, highly dangerous being decided to appear in their dimension? Batman couldn't help but think that there had to be a connection to the missing teens and this.
Meanwhile in the Infinite Realms the Ghost King Castle...
Danny smoothed out his fur trimmed cape and adjusted his crown so it was floating nicely and evenly on his head. Today was the day he would get to meet his sons friends. He needed to make a good first impression. That was why he had chosen to take on his Ghost King form for this. With the wave of his hand he made an ice mirror appear before him, checking how he was looking once again. Once satisfied he nodded to himself looking over towards Fright Knight who was holding the plate of cookies he had baked himself. It was the fifth batch, and the only one that didn't turn out burned. He had needed Jazz help for this one to turn out well. It was only proper if he brought some cookies for the kids. Also he would have loved to bring his families fudge but... the last time he had tried making them had turned into a disaster.
"Thanks Frighty. Do you think Klarion's friends will like these? Wait don't answer! If they don't like them I will just get something else to thank them for taking care of my boy." Danny rambled on as he glanced at the plate of cookies in his hands. Why was he so nervous? He was just going to get to meet his little boy's friends. Sure his boy had dropped some stories about them and his adventures with them here and there. But hearing stories and meeting the kids were two different things.
Shaking his head Danny put on his best smile as he summoned a portal to Klarions apartment in the 43th Dimension of Earth. It was time to visit his boy in the place he had made his second home and thank the people that looked after his kid.
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sabersandsnipers · 6 months
Text
Drabbles: First Kisses
Featuring Astarion, Halsin, Gale, Gortash, Raphael
Inspiration courtesy of @me-writes-prompts
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Gortash
He’s quick to bind your hands. Something you knew was coming considering you were taken prisoner. Gortash wasn’t about to let a skilled warrior such as you be transported with your hands unbound.
His fingers work quickly to tie a knot in the rope holding your hands together. A fluttery feeling fills your stomach at the feeling of his fingers brushing against your hands.
He lowers your hands, tipping your chin up to look at him. “Try anything, and you won’t like the punishment.”
You can’t explain why, but your eyes travel to his lips. There’s something about him that draws you in, makes you wonder what he tastes like.
Before you can comprehend your movements, you step forward and kiss him.
His body tenses for a moment and you step away quickly to gauge his reaction. You can’t read him. He simply watches you.
Your breath leaves you. A part of you unbelieving you just did that. A burn blooms in your chest as you wait for him to react in a rage.
Then he stalks over to you, his long legs moving quickly. He takes your face in his hands and kisses you roughly.
You ache to touch him, but your bound hands stop you. So you simply roll your hips into his so you can feel him as much as possible. He growls into your lips at your movements.
His hands fall to your ass. He grips you roughly as you continue to move your hips against him. Your heart is pounding. Your mind is unable to comprehend that you’re making out with Enver Gortash.
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Astarion
Astarion has offered to help you practice your kissing technique. At first you were slightly offended that he even thinks you need practice, but after some contemplation, you realize it’s been a while. And you were hoping to find some company at a tavern tonight as well.
Which is how you find yourself sitting across from him. You both sit cross legged, as if you’re a couple teenagers about to play a dirty game. Tension laces your body. This isn’t exactly a comforting situation.
“Just try to focus on what I’m doing,” he instructs.
You nod, watching his lips as he tilts his head to kiss you. You nearly gasp as his skin meets yours. His lips are deliciously cold, and you have to restrain yourself from leaning into him. He’s the one taking the lead here.
His tongue runs along your bottom lip. You part your lips to grant him access. The smallest of whimpers escapes you as his practiced tongue glides against yours.
Your hands move on their own as they try to snake through his hair. His hands are quick to restrain you.
“No touching,” he says before resuming his work.
You feel lightheaded by the time he pulls away. He looks at you with a smug look on his face, clearly knowing the effect he has on you.
“Your turn,” he tells you. By the twinkle in his eyes, you can tell he can’t wait to taste you again.
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Gale
The necklace Gale hands to you is gorgeous. The gem sitting on the chain glitters in such a way that it almost takes your breath away. No doubt he added some magical effect to it to make it that much more special.
“Gale, this is too much,” you tell him. You’ve had a crush on him since he joined your adventure, and things like this aren’t helping the growing affection you feel for him.
“The necklace would be going to waste if it was on anyone else,” he replies. “I want you to have it.”
You press it against your chest and grin at him. “I love it.”
The way he looks at you makes your heart flutter. “Let me put it on for you.”
He takes the necklace and you sweep your hair up so he can secure the clasp at the back of your neck. His fingers brush against your skin, causing a slight shiver to rush through you.
When he’s finished, you turn to kiss him on the cheek. But then he turns his head, and your lips meet.
A small gasp leaves you, and you step away. “Sorry about that, I just wanted to thank you for such a beautiful gift.” Your face suddenly feels unbelievably hot.
He moves closer. He tilts your chin up. You meet his gaze, butterflies dancing in your stomach.
“So thank me.”
He’s inviting you in. Your eyes fall to his lips. You admire the shape of them for a moment before leaning in to kiss him.
Lightning ignites in your belly when your lips meet his. Your body nearly jolts at the sensational feeling. His hands fall to your waist. His fingers press into you ever so slightly.
His tongue is certainly practiced. You nearly feel dizzy at the pleasure he’s able to ignite in you just from a kiss. But he holds you steady, and you’re grateful, because your knees feel like they could buckle at any moment.
Of course, Astarion is the one to ruin your moment.
“Please kill me now,” you hear his voice behind you. You both whip your head to the source, cheeks flushed.
“If I have to watch you two doing that from now on, I’m flinging myself off a cliff.”
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Halsin
You never should’ve let Karlach pick for game night. But here you all are, sitting around the campfire playing truth or dare. Your mind is slightly fuzzy due to the wine you’ve been drinking, and the laughter that’s been bubbling in you for most of the night.
“Truth or dare?” Karlach asks when it’s your turn.
You're quick to pick dare. The alcohol in your system challenges you to do something dumb.
Karlach answers as if she’s been waiting all night for this. “I dare you to kiss Halsin.” She grins proudly.
A small twinge of anxiety pokes at you through your fuzzy haze. Your eyes flicker to Halsin, expecting him to look offended or hurt. But his expression is an open one, a light smile even graces his lips.
You shrug. “Alright.”
You make your way over to Halsin. Grateful for the drinks you’ve had, you sit on one of his thighs. You feel his hand slide up your back, earning tingles at the back of your neck.
You lean forward and carefully press your lips against his, as if testing if he’s okay with it. Then he leans into you, and you know you have permission to fall into him even more.
The gang hoots around the campfire, egging you on. You laugh against his lips. Part of you wishes you were in private so you could kiss other parts of him as well. Those large hands of his hold you so carefully. You want to feel them on your hips, your thighs, everywhere.
Karlach groans. “Okay enough. Before I get sick.”
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Raphael
This was wrong. You knew that. Raphael is a devil. He just wants to manipulate you. Trick you into getting what he wants.
And now, as he corners you and presses himself against you, you know he’s playing your body. Using your reactions to weaken you and your state of mind. But his firm body continues to send waves of pleasure straight through you.
“What’s wrong, little mouse?” He asks, smirking. He leans down to whisper in your ear. “Cat got your tongue?”
He angles his face close to yours, eyes intense and alight with desire. A small voice in your head tells you to push him away. But it’s hard to listen when he looks so sinful.
His lips are on yours. You instinctively grind against him, cheeks flushing at how quickly your body gives in. Flames lick at your skin. His hands roam your body as if he’s memorizing every dip and curve.
When his claws trace your bare skin, you gasp. His body tightens at the noises you make. You should stop this. You should push him away.
But every roll of his hips, every caress of his fingers, and you can’t help yourself from falling deeper into his haze.
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fallinallincurls · 1 month
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pancakes for two, i will always love you
this is my (late) entry for demi's lowkey lovefest 2k24! thank you so much for hosting this fun little challenge @wyattjohnston!
this fic is also a belated birthday gift to the amazing @desiredposion!! inspiration struck and i had to make the most of it so i hope you love this! this was also my first time writing for nico which was so much fun.
prompt used: "don't ever stop looking at me like that."
heavily inspired by the lyrics "maple syrup, coffee, pancakes for two, hash brown, egg yolk, i will always love you" from keep driving by harry styles
hope you enjoy!! feedback is always appreciated! xx
word count: 1.3k+
~~~~~
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Dating a professional hockey player means that slow mornings are a rarity. Usually, Nico is up and out the door for morning skate before your eyes even open. But today, you’re lucky enough to get the extra time in bed with the man you love for the first time in what feels like forever.
As sunlights bathes the room in a subtle, but beautiful golden glow, you snuggle in closer to Nico in an effort to absorb the heat radiating from his body. His strong arms tighten around you instinctively and even though his eyes remain closed, he presses a kiss to your forehead before dropping his head into the crook of your neck.
“Morning, Neeks.”
“Mm,” He hums contently, making you giggle and you relish in the rough feeling of his scruff against your skin. You card a hand through his tousled hair, earning a soft moan in response.
“Come on, schatzi.” He murmurs, dragging out the syllables of each word as a slight smirk appears on his lips. “You know how much I like it when you play with my hair.”
“Oh trust me, I know.” You chuckle, moving your hand to his cheek just as Nico lifts his head and his gorgeous brown eyes meet yours. A comfortable silence settles between the two of you, the playfulness that was evident just seconds ago fading even though the identical tender smiles on your faces continue to grow.
“We don’t get to do this enough.” Nico whispers, gaze never leaving yours as he pulls you impossibly closer to him. You rest a hand on his bare chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart and try to commit every detail about this moment to memory. Nothing but pure adoration rushes through your veins as you admire the beautiful man next to you.
“That’s okay. It makes these rare mornings that much more special.”
“I’m going to tell the team we can’t ever have practice until after 10 at the earliest.” Nico grins, his dimples appearing as he laughs at his own little joke.
“You have that power as captain?” You tease, pressing a kiss to his nose, his cheek, and finally his lips. Nico smiles into the kiss before deepening it for a few seconds, bringing out that familiar need for him.
“I don’t really know, but I deserve some more time with my girl so I’ll make it a rule. I don’t care what anyone says.” He mumbles against your lips, voice low and still full of sleep.
Your heart swells as you drink in the sight of your boyfriend. Nico’s eyes are sparkling with love and his sweet smile is the most gorgeous thing you’ve ever seen. His hair is a mess but somehow still looks perfect and you absentmindedly trace shapes on his shoulder, feeling the well toned muscles there. 
He is a dream. And despite all odds, you’re the lucky one who gets to love him every single day. That’s something you’ll never take for granted because you never thought you’d find someone as kind, caring and amazing as Nico.
Yet, here you are. 
You’re pulled out of your thoughts when Nico presses another tender kiss to your cheek before pulling away like he’s going to get up.
“Hey, hey! Where do you think you’re going?” You tease him, grabbing onto his forearm in an effort to keep him in bed.
“To make breakfast?” Nico replies, more as a question than a statement. His brows knit together in confusion and the cutest look crosses over his facial features.
“Right now? We can’t stay and cuddle for five more minutes?” Nico can’t help but chuckle at the adorable pout you’re putting on display, but doesn’t give into your antics. Instead, he leans down to give you one last kiss before heading towards the bedroom door.
“Yes, right now. By the time you’re done with your morning routine, everything will be ready. I promise. We have all day to be cozy and do absolutely nothing.” He reassures you, that cheeky smile of his blossoming across his lips and bringing out his dimples again.
“Not fair, Neeks!” You call after him, that giddy feeling of happiness rushing through you when you hear his laughter floating down the hallway. After soaking in the warmth for a few more seconds, you reluctantly drag yourself out of bed to shower and get your morning routine done. 
And true to his word, when you enter the kitchen dressed in sweats and one of Nico’s shirts ready for a lazy day in with your boyfriend, you find the counter covered in a full breakfast spread. A mug of coffee made just the way you like it, pancakes for two, maple syrup, hash browns and eggs are all plated and ready to be enjoyed.
“Nico,” You breathe out, shock and awe evident in your voice. Nico is always doing something sweet for you, no matter how big or small, but you weren’t expecting this at all. “What is this for?”
“Just because.” Nico shrugs, a bashful look on his face. His cheeks are pink with blush and those gorgeous brown eyes are twinkling with excitement. “We don’t get many mornings together like this. I wanted to spoil you. Made all your favorites.” He admits before stealing a kiss from you and passing you a full plate he somehow put together without you noticing. 
“I love you.” There’s nothing else you can say. After all the time together, these little gestures still warm your heart and are the kindest reminders of Nico’s love for you.
“I love you too, schatzi. Now come on, let’s eat. We’ve got a whole lot of nothing to do today.” Nico teases, sitting down next to you at the table. 
As you enjoy breakfast together, the two of you talk about everything and anything. Nico tells you some funny stories from practice yesterday and catches you up on all the drama about how Jack likes a girl, but won’t make a move. You fill him in on your latest project at work and how you scheduled a girls day with your best friend for later that week. 
“We’re going to check out that new bookstore in Hoboken! The one right by the restaurant we really like on the waterfront. I’m looking for the next book in the series I’m reading so hopefully they have it.”
Noticing Nico has been quiet the whole time you’ve been talking, your rambling trails off. But before you can ask what’s wrong, your breath is stolen away. Because when you take in the sight of your boyfriend, you see the fondest look on his face. One that you recognize of pure love and adoration. It’s the look of someone who has found exactly where they should be. The look of someone who has found happiness in the simplicity of spending their life with another person. 
“Please don’t ever stop looking at me like that.” You murmur, the words slipping past your lips before you even realize what you’re saying. Nico’s gentle smile just grows, his hand reaching for yours. 
“Like what?” He teases, that familiar playfulness evident through his question. 
“Like nothing else in the world matters but the love that we have. Like you’re the happiest right here with me.”
“I am the happiest with you. Always will be.” Nico whispers before pulling you in for a deep kiss. He says everything with that kiss, words aren’t necessary and wouldn’t do justice to how he feels about you. You melt into his gentle touch, smiling against his lips as everything else falls away for just a moment.
“And you’re right,” He starts when the kiss breaks, his big brown eyes never leaving yours. “Nothing else even compares to the way I love you.” 
And right then, over pancakes and coffee that Nico made you, you know he’s going to be the man you marry. The one you spend the rest of your days with. Because this kind of love is once-in-a-lifetime and you don’t want to go through life without him by your side.
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ghostsvacuumcleaner · 8 months
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You came — you called. | Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!reader
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credits for the header - ghost's pic by the very talented @ave661 ✦ Word count: 2.2k ✦ Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!reader ✦ Summary: After being abused by your current date, in need of comfort, you call your ex-boyfriend and recurring fling, Simon, to talk. ✦ TW and general warnings: SFW, some kisses here and there but no smut, angst, you guys are in a complicated situationship, fluff, sensitive content (domestic violence) ✦ AO3 | Masterlist edit: I wrote a part 2 in case you're interested <3
A/N: I really need to finish my already started requests, really do but inspiration ONLY gets to me when I'm randomly existing and then a random prompt comes in mind and arghhh gotta write 😭 but I promise - if anyone reading this sent me a request, know I've started it already and I WILL finish. also, thinking really a lot about making a part 2 for this piece and making it smutty. pls let me know if anyone's interested! anyways, not proof read, hope y'all enjoy, x
━━━━━━━━━ ⟡ ━━━━━━━━━
It’s the same place as the last time you saw him. Ironic, maybe. You still smoke the same cigarettes he offered to you once in a promise it would help you calm down from your anxiety; it did. It did a little too much. You still wear that same necklace you refused to get rid off even after you dumped him, after you promised you’d never see him again, never talk to him again. God, hope he doesn’t get mad at that.
Truth is you’ve been failing at that for quite some time. You’ve been seeing him way more than it’s necessary, but contrary to how things used to be before, now every moment with him is a single time that ceases to exist once you get home. He texts; you ignore. He doesn’t text anymore till the next time he misses you. You ignore it till the next time you miss him. This time isn’t much different, only you have a bit more of a reason to be here, unsure if he’ll show up, smoking this damned red Marlboro and feeling like shit. Like absolute shit.
You exhale the smoke, your hair tied back in a ponytail through the cap gap. Hiding yourself.
His big broad figure fills the door in, and he comes inside. To your big surprise, he decided lastly to come; Simon looks at you with a bitter look on his face, his dirty blonde hair trimmed, his beard done, wearing one of his thousand black tight t-shirts and a pair of jeans. He looks the same as ever.
“You came.” You say, surprised as he pulls the chair back and takes the seat in front of yours. 
“You called.” He replies simply, his body relaxing spaciously in the chair with his arms crossed over his chest. 
“Yeah, I did.” You let out some more smoke before discarding your cigarette on the ashtray. “But I thought you were still mad at me.” 
He looks at you in silence for a couple seconds, and scoffs.
“And that never stopped you from calling, did it?” He snorts impatiently. “Did something actually happen or are you just lonely and needing someone to help you fall asleep?” You feel derision in his attitude and his voice is dripping with venom and bitterness.
You close your eyes. Can’t blame him, can you? You had your own good reasons to break up with him, although stupidly, without thinking twice - without thinking that you’d end up missing him. Trying to find him in all the wrong places, wrong guys. 
“Well go on, Simon, what else do you still have to tell me?” You mimic him, crossing your arms and your face a little twisted in irritation facing him. “I was single, I still am. I had the right to be with someone else.” 
“I never blamed you for that. I never fucking blamed you.” Simon wipes his mouth with his hand, his ever icy expression breaking into frustration the second you open your mouth again.
“You are blaming me. You-”
“I fucking am not. I’m angry at the poor fucking choice you did. Getting rid of me for that fucker? You’re making a joke out of yourself, even for someone like me that’s fucking downgrading.” He snaps, regretting it the second later and squeezing his eyes for a moment. 
You remain silent. He’s right. He’s absolutely right. 
You stare into the distance of the window by your side, silent - embarrassed, regretful. Your hands together over your lap and your silence put together make him raise his head at you once again, in a sigh.
“I shouldn’t be here. Our conversations won’t ever end in anything good but me taking you to bed, if that’s what you want then I’ll gladly do it without all the trouble.” He states. You tremulously raise your eyebrows and your lips curl in a small hurt smile. 
Ouch.
You know he said it to hurt you. You know he’s angry, he’s hitting all the right buttons to get under your skin, he can’t help it. He can’t help but to be a bastard sometimes, he never learnt different.
Your eye stare down your own hands, you feel your lips tremble and the lump in your throat gets bigger each second. It's hard to hold back the tears, but for your dignity, you try. There's no less brutal way to admit something like that, so you vomit the words all at once.
“He hit me, Simon.”
His eyes open, the pupils slowly dilate like those of a shark that has just tasted blood for the first time.
Simon has blood on his hands. From too many people, more than you could count. And even if that's his job, never in all those hard years with him - you swore - had you ever seen him so pissed off.
The veins in his temples stood out and he swallowed bitterly, his mind empty; If he wasn't an extremely restrained man, then he would have gotten up and taken action right now. A thoughtless attitude that he might later regret - maybe.
“Tell me his address.” He snaps, his blood boiling enough for you to almost feel the heat increasing in his flesh. 
“Simon, no.” You immediately cut him off, shaking your head, almost crying at this point. "That's not what I called you for, I don't want you to hurt anyone. I broke up with him, I don't have anything to do with that son of a bitch anymore, I just-"
He interrupts you with a gesture and claps his hands to his face. He brushes his own skin roughly, as a self-reminder that if he gives in to his own anger, he'll let you down.
When he makes room for his eyes through his hands again and sees your reddened
face, tears streaming down your cheeks - he dies inside. 
He promised he’d always be there for you. He promised he’d never let you down, he’d always protect you, he’d kill for you. He said it plenty of times and you were completely aware that it was true. 
He couldn’t possibly let you down.
“No, please, I can’t- I just can’t when you cry.” He mutters, getting up from his seat and offering his hand. “You come with me. Please?”
━ ⟡ ━
The hot steaming water falls over your head, sweeping your tears as you hug your legs. Simon's fingertips brush calmly your back, he contours the bruises on your lower half like he's grieving. The silence fills in the bathroom if not for the sound of water dripping on your head. He pours some water on your back to soothe your pain - even if you're not feeling any at this point. 
"Why did you not call me before?" He asks, with painful confusion in his raspy voice. His hands are shaking and you know it's pure anger and his own incapability of holding himself back when it comes to feeling anger. You sigh, tired. 
"I don't know. I felt like I'd be unfair to you." You try to explain, your hands caressing your shins while the water runs through your skin. "And because I didn't want to get you in this state." 
His eyes narrow as he stares at you, and you shrug in response. It's clear to him why you don't like to get him stressed - he could never hurt you, but he was a danger to others.
 He waves his hands to shake off the water and stands up, grabbing and opening a clean towel for you.
You stand up, your eyes don't dare leaving his. He silently admires you, although his mind can't think much more than how guilty he feels for letting this happen to you - even though there was nothing he could do about it. You dry your feets on the mat and turn your back so he can wrap you in the towel, and he does so. 
Simon calmly brushes the towel against your shoulders, drying a bit of the water that drips from your whole body and once he’s done wrapping you in the towel, he places his hands on your back and leads you to his room.
His smell is everywhere around and what used to be intoxicating and lustful for you, is now soothing and quiet. You sit on the edge of his bed, silence seeming to be now a whole conversation between the two of you.
Your hand reaches for his and places it on your cheek. You look up at him with kitty eyes, your thumb circles the skin on the back of his hand till it finds the scar you were looking for – one of his oldest ones, according to himself. You close your eyes and snuggle into his hand, giving it a light, calming kiss.
He caresses your cheek and moves your hair from your face.
“I’ll get you some fresh clothes.” He says in a whisper. You nod, and he comes back moments later with a clean shirt of his. You tug it in your neck and quickly put it on letting the fabric run free on your body, loose. 
He starts removing rubbish from his bedside table – an ashtray, an empty can of energy drink, a gun. As you notice he seems to be trying to empty the room for you, you speak out.
"Wait, where are you going?" 
"I'll be in the living room if you need me for anything." He says simply. Before he can leave the room, you stop him by wrapping your hand on his arm. The sudden motion makes him turn around to face you, his dark eyes gazing at yours and seeming already aware of what comes next – a protest. 
"Simon." You use a warning tone, and he closes his eyes. 
"You don't want to have me around now, kitten. I'm far from calm…" He argues, calmly looking down at you now. The proximity burns you, he's too close. 
"I'm not scared." You mewl, your hands on his tough chest, he doesn't move a muscle. Your hands start trailing up to his neck, and you get on your tiptoes to wrap your arms better around him; Simon closes his eyes, drunk by the overwhelming feeling of having you so close to him. He misses you. 
One of his hands holds your wrist before you manage to curl up on his neck, and the other one gently holds on your waist. He bends down enough so he can reach your tiny self. He gives you what you want - his lips slowly catch yours in a slow, calm kiss; the warmth of his lips against yours is medicine to you – soothes all of your pain, eases all of your anxiety. He squeezes on your waist and pulls back once he starts feeling heaty and his breath starts to become uncontrolled, needy. He breaths against your lips, his eyes barely closed and his breath catching on his throat like panting. 
You stare at his lips before going back to his eyes. 
"Stop." He snarls, raising his head a bit, avoiding your face and the closeness you impose on him now. It feels wrong. You need space.
You close your eyes, you understand. It feels wrong. 
After all of this time of failed attempts to let go, to sound nonchalant and be away from each other – after all the fails and the sex, devoid of feeling type of sex, rough, delicious but raw sex, he wants to fuck you straight. He doesn't want to be angry, he wants to take you and make love to you. 
You understand. Feels wrong.
"Will you be fine here? You need to rest and I need to take a walk, clear my head." He mutters, avoiding your eyes for the sake of restraining himself. You nod. 
"I'll be alright. You'll come back, right?" You ask, looking at him - looking for his eyes. He stands back from you and nods. 
"Of course." He assures you, before caressing your hair slowly and giving you a calm kiss on the forehead. "Rest. Do not stay awake waiting for me, hear me?" He snarls, grabbing his keys and a hoodie of his, tucking it in and giving you space. 
You sit in his bed and nods, watching him leave by the room door and close it behind himself. Now alone, you close your eyes exhausted by the lack of sleep you've been having for these past few days; it doesn't take you long to fall asleep, surrounded by comfortable pillows that smell like his perfume – woody and whiskey. 
Walking in the streets, with his hands digging in his hoodie's pocket and tough stomps, Simon's face lit up by the light emanating from the street lamps. His body swings slightly to the weight of his steps, and he breathes heavily. 
After several minutes – more than he probably told you he'd take, he stops in front of a very familiar residence. You should know it wouldn't be any trouble for him to find your abuser's house. 
He took a familiar piece of cloth out of his pocket, it had been time since he last wore it. Now seemed like a good moment. A balaclava, full face mask – handmade, with a skull painted on. Simon hugs you and kisses your scars; Ghost wants revenge. 
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lemonszesty · 5 months
Text
soft headcanons. h. higuruma
A/N: im alive who would have thought! This is partially inspired w/ off the deep end thoughts about lawyer man with @lale-txt and he’s been invading my brain all day so i had to get it all out :) these are kind of all over the place and not in any cohesive order sorry! Literally just got possessed by love for lawyer man GENRE: fluff, nsfw at end MINORS DO NOT INTERACT WARNINGS: nsfw at the end (LEMON WRITING NSFW????? it’s like four bullet points calm down), not really proofread PROMPT: hc’s about higuruma as a partner WORD COUNT: 1.4k
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- Hiromi is a calm man, a good man, a gentle man. He believes in fairness overall, that to truly find the salt someone is made of, the whole context of their life needs to be taken into account before a decision can be made. He’s logical- though not even close to heartless- and thorough.
- Well, he believes in fairness over all… for the most part. The first time he saw you, across the street from his office enjoying a warm beverage at the cafe across the street, he wanted nothing more than to talk to you, to learn about you, to find what made you into the person he is now witnessing. The way you carried yourself, even slightly blurred from the distance at which he saw you, caught him like a fish on a hook.
- His courting is subtle, thoughtful, each move he makes to win your favor is calculated and considerate of everything he knows about you. He relishes in getting to know you organically, taking you on dates whenever he has a chance to. Nothing too cliche- no movies or amusement parks. He’s too tired for high energy environments, wants to converse with you too badly to sit in a quiet theater. Though, if you asked him to do any of those things, he would want to go just to spend time with you, to see that smile that’s had him distracted from the first moment he saw it.
- When he finally takes the step to ask you to be his partner, it’s likely at a nice restaurant, something nice enough to be deserving of you. Higuruma would be nervous, needing to force his foot not to tap idly against the marbled tile, but when he finally finds the moment to ask you, he’s clear and to the point.
- This lawyer is a man not ashamed of his feelings because he’s thought about them, put them through their own trial, not wanting to lead you into muddy waters if he chooses to open his heart to you fully. Fairness above all- he hopes that you can be as clear with your feelings as he is of his own.
- As a partner, Higuruma is doting in his own way. It might not look like much to others, might earn you some unsolicited concern thoughts from coworkers or friends who meet him, but to you? It’s clear as day just how much the lawyer cares about you.
- He doesn’t display much of any physical affection in public, if you go to the cafe to do your own work, he’ll bring your hand to his lips and brush his lips against your knuckles and watch you cross the street to make sure you arrive safely. In crowded streets, a firm but gentle hand makes its way to the small of your back, making sure you know he’s still behind you.
- Or, perhaps in some ways the boldest display of affection he’d partake in would be how he always straightens your clothes for you if they’re out of place, moving the stray piece of hair out of your way, moving the clasp of the necklace he bought you to the back of your neck once more. He’ll deny it, but it brings him a deep rooted feeling of satisfaction to see you be so comfortable around him. He takes pride in your trust in him, cherishes the closeness you give him, and won’t really try to hide that emotional closeness from others.
- Higuruma would give you a call in front of his coworkers, asking what you want for dinner because he doesn’t feel like cooking and doesn’t want to force you to either because of that. But, if he ever came home to the smell of dinner or other delicious goods baking, he would appreciate you all the more, coming in the kitchen to thank you (with a kiss or hand gently placed on your head) before he even changes out of his work attire.
- Making his feelings known comes first to his comfort, caring more about making sure you know he appreciates your efforts than the comfort of the clothes on his back. If he has a busy week at work, he doesn’t lose sight of the things you do for him, no matter how small or large they may be. The second his job allows it, when he is at your shared home more than to just sleep by your side for a couple measly hours before returning back to work, he is doing what he can to balance the work of home with you.
- If you made something that he liked, tried a new recipe that made his heart warm with every bite, he’d think long and hard about how to tell you about it.
- The two of you laying in bed, his body wrapped around your own as a big spoon, you’d be moments away from being pulled into sleep before he takes a breath, quietly telling you that the treat you made him the other week was good, thanking you again for making them. His breath would tickle the back of your neck before his neck curls towards you, tucking his head against you. If he was feeling particularly doting, his arms would tighten around you and a gentle kiss would be placed where your neck and shoulders meet.
- After a long day of work, though he might not say it, Hiruguma wants nothing more than to be in the comfort of your presence. Maybe having a bath (clothes optional) by himself as he finishes mulling over the day, but only so that he can be completely present in the time he spends with you.
- Watching a movie together is fine now, now that he can call himself your partner, that he knows you enough to share a home. There’s no time wasted when you spend it when the one you love, and oh how he loves you.
- Hiruguma falls in love deeply and completely. Though he has some hesitations, knowing all too well the risks his job and ability of sorcery can mean for him, he can’t help but love everything that makes you the person you are. The lawyer takes you for everything that makes you you, loving even the ugliest moments of your past.
- He would do anything to stay with you, to be your support as you heal from any wounds from past. In the comfort of your home, away from prying eyes, he reassures you of the person he sees you as, never letting your warped self perception forget how much he loves you.
some nsfw headcanons MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
- in bed, he makes love to you just as he loves you, with devotion, attention, and care. Paying back anything he owes in full, working overtime to bring you pleasure as one of his many ways to apologize for putting in so much over time at work.
- unless time is against the both of you, he always finds his way in between your legs at some point of it all, loving to be the reason that you cry out in pleasure, feeling your hands desperately weave into his hair so that he doesn’t part from you. not that he would, not that he could, so utterly content to drown with you in your pleasure.
- Though a quiet man, or a reserved man, usually, he talks so much you wonder if he could even stop. Muttering praises, whispered I love you’s as desperate hands grab at any inch of skin they can find. You’re like a dream to him, one he would gladly lose himself in over and over and over again.
- He might push you to fall into his dreams with him, yes you can come again, I know you can, just for me, please cum for me, but also stays mindful of your limits, knowing the signs of when things might become too much and always listening incase you want to stop for any reason.
- (AFAB READER AHEAD) if you ever asked to sit on his face (if you never asked don’t be surprised if he eventually asks), his nose is begging to have your clit grind against it, letting his hands grip at your hips and his tongue work at your sex.
- and no i will not elaborate but having work-driven-frustration sex would also be top notch. i also feel like. He’ll bite you. Just a lil. An excited kisser in the heat of the moment if u know what i mean
799 notes · View notes
fillinforlater · 3 months
Text
Friends that can keep a secret
Male Reader x Jo Yuri (ft. two male friends)
Length: 3.500 words
Tags: foursome, gangbang, MMMF, drunk sex, seducing, a faux game of spin the bottle, making out, sharing a girlfriend, rimming, face fucking, double penetration, anal, spanking, rough sex, anal creampie, riding, cowgirl, protection, not_your_girlfriend!Yuri
TW: there are other male OCs in this and you fuck a girl in all her holes, I dunno, if you don't like that, feel free to leave
Inspiration: @breach12 for the request/prompt
(A/N: here is something I promised to write quite a while back. It's finally finished. I changed the prompt quite a bit, but I hope the person who requested it likes it (and y'all too))
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“Should you knock or I knock.”
Daehwi grins and you roll your eyes. He can never make things easy.
“Dude, just fucking knock.”
You and your friends recently finished another semester in college. You really had to think, was it the fifth, the sixth, the—no, it was the sixth. It felt like forever since you enrolled in that university with it’s unimpressive name and even less impressive campus. In the end, you made it through this time without impressive grades or interesting stories, but maybe this is your ideal life.
Calm and uninteresting, at least to others.
Your friends are a bit different. On one hand there is Daehwi, the crazy one. He is like a wild animal, free from every and all constraints but a slave of his desires and instincts. He gets a lot of girls, hookups, relationships, break ups, scandals—nothing ever slows him down. No matter how stupidly crazy his ideas are, they always work out and in the end, even his grades pan out. Daehwi has either figured out how to live a perfect life or he is just insanely lucky.
But he is a good friend in time of need.
On the other hand is Junseo. He is one hell of a cutie-patootie, caring for every one of his friends, colleagues, even profs. No bad word ever comes from his lips and he is always punctual. Literally always. He trades loyalty for loyalty and is the perfect example for genuinity and consistency. It is only fair that he got the most beautiful girl as his girlfriend.
Junseo is a great friend, but sometimes Yuri takes up all his time.
Yuri is the rock star on campus. She can make the entire university fall on their knees by grabbing a mic and singing her heart out. She is talented, smart, gorgeous—the crush of many, until they find another girl to smash. Yuri was never ready for one night stands, and so it was only fitting that Junseo and her fell in love gradually. No hookups, just pure, romantic love.
Love without you. You watched from afar as your best friend fell in love with your crush. That crush on Yuri that everyone has at least once in their campus life, it still lingers in your heart. You have to suppress it almost daily, but it is a tiny stain on your otherwise good life. Suppress it for Junseo, especially today when you get to celebrate another successful semester at his place. 
"Oh hey guys, come in!" Junseo opens the door with a wide grin and a surprising pink hue on his cheeks.
"Yo!” Daehwi shouts until his chest vibrates. “We bought beer, let's celebrate—damn, did you start drinking without us?" Daehwi puts down the two six packs and starts to aggressively pinch Junseo’s cheek. You start to laugh as the two playfully fight like two lion cubs.
“I brought some snacks,” you shout and try to get their attention. Fun is good and all, but you’re still standing outside and the cold air is brushing past your sensitive calves. "I got them for you, but if you don’t move, I’ll eat them all alone."
The three of you finally make your way into the flat and onto the couches. You feel the good vibes radiating throughout the room and it only gets progressively better. The first step to make such a celebration unforgettable is good beer and surprisingly, the cans Daehwi bought (at least you hope that he bought them) are filled with it. You down two of them easily, Daehwi is already on his third while Junseo reaches for a Soju bottle to create an intoxicating mixture. 
“Damn, I didn’t know you got Soju,” Daehwi groans in ecstasy as he takes a swing straight from the green bottle. “Your grades must have been terrible.”
“Nah, it’s not that,” Junseo responds with a pout. “It's because this might be the last time we have a celebration like this.”
“Huh, how so?” you protest and get a handful of crackers into your mouth, not willing to accept that such a well-kept tradition would end tonight, without warning.
“It’s because, next semester, I’m done, so the party is gonna be bigger. And afterwards, with work and all, I don’t know if it will work out like this again.”
“Shit, life is really catching up to us.” Daehwi clicks his tongue and you can already see that his drunk, a bit more melancholic but still wild and direct self appears. After all, he can’t keep himself from downing liquor. 
“If only I knew,” you sigh, angry that you forgot that Junseo was already here when you started to study. He was always ahead and now he will be the first to leave behind college life and become a truly normal person. “I would have brought stuff to make this more memorable.”
Junseo grabs the hem of your shirt and there is this drunk grin on his face as he babbles: “Don’t worry, I have things planned.
“Yuri, dear, you can come in now~”
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Honest to God, you forgot about her for a split second—you will never for the rest of your life. Yuri walks in, the walk of a supermodel. Her high heels clack on the wooden floor, her hips sway in that stupidly short miniskirt, her eyes sparkle when she winks at you. You’re staring everywhere at once, to the point your throat goes dry again and you quickly need another drink. Luckily, Yuri brought more Soju and hands you a bottle.
“Congrats on beating another semester,” she says with a saccharine smile that stuns you, glues you to the couch, all to the amusement of Junseo beside you. “You gonna take it or not?”
“Su-sure, thank you.” Grab the bottle like an idiot and drink from it like one. Daehwi isn’t any better, dry lips stuck to his can while his eyes are glued to Yuri’s back. She makes sure to stick out her ass for him to see the nice curve. The green plaid skirt is barely long enough to hide her cheeks as she kneels next to him, hands on the table, searching for crackers or chips.
“Yuri, you are gorgeous,” Junseo compliments his girlfriend with a wicked grin and Yuri responds with an expression so sly and sexy, you almost drop your bottle and spit out its contents. Those two must have been drinking before Daehwi and you arrived, otherwise they wouldn’t be so bold.
“Damn, what the hell is going on with you two?” Daehwi bluntly asks them, but all he gets are glances from the couple and a confused shrug by you. “I bet you two are drunk already. Better stop now before any accidents happen.”
“There are no accidents tonight,” Junseo says firmly and makes room in the middle of the table for an empty Soju bottle. “No accidents, no boundaries, no questions asked. Do you two understand?”
“Well, that is a question,” you try to respond with wit, but it’s quickly forgotten when Yuri spins the empty bottle.
“Whoever this bottle lands on gets to have a free wish—kinda like truth and dare, except everyone else has to accept the dare and what you want to do to them.” Yuri’s words have your mind rotating faster than the bottle; is she for real? No limits, no boundaries? No one will ask questions? Can you just—go for it? Ask her to love you for this one night—no Junseo, just you?
Your wish fades to black when the bottle stops and points straight at Junseo, who does not hesitate and grabs his girlfriend at the wrist. Blink once, blink twice and she already sits on his lap, right next to you, and he is ready to stick his tongue into her eager mouth.
“My wish is that everyone fucking loosens up and just watches.”
The most tense thriller could not be more engaging for you. To see Junseo fondle Yuri, her tight little body, her covered boobs, her flawless back, down to the edge of her skirt has you sweaty all over. All over, again, he doesn’t stop and goes for that long, blonde hair and combs it back. Yuri moans and her nails dig into the back of the couch. Then they go back to making out, provocatively loud and Yuri’s top almost slips over her boobs.
You’re not the only one starring. Daehwi gets into position behind them, and he shamelessly looks under Yuri’s skirt—what he finds must be utterly mind melting, because he quickly grabs the bottle and points it at himself. He clears his throat to get everyone’s attention and for a second, the silence is heavier than a black hole.
“I-it’s my turn.” Daehwi gulps, the couple pants. “Can I pull down your skirt, Yuri?”
“Sure, just let me get up.”
With a final kiss on the cheek, Yuri leaves her boyfriend’s lap and stands in front of the kneeling Daehwi. She reaches for his hands and places them on her hips. This was the final straw, the last chain that held back the savage animal. Daehwi roughly yanks down Yuri’s skirt; with every gasp, more of her lower body is revealed until—nothing but a skimpy thong. You get to see it from behind only for a second, because Daehwi immediately spins Yuri around to knead and lick her cute butt cheeks. 
You’ve only heard stories of Daehwi’s sexcapades, the endless rounds of loud smashing, of groaning, of cumming—you never knew he could become so feral at the touch of two small round buttcheeks. It seems to work however, Yuri is definitely feeling herself, hands in her hair, head thrown back as she moans profanities towards the ceiling.
Suddenly, the head of a bottle crosses your vision. Juseon has the green thing pointed at you, on eye level and you don’t let him even start his sentence before uttering your own wish. It’s a bit desperate, but totally accurate to your situation and pent up feelings.
“Yuri, I—I want to make out with you, o-on my lap!”
“Oh yes, for sure~”
Followed by the still manically kneading Daehwi, Yuri climbs on top of you and goes straight for your mouth. Her tongue, still glazed in liquor and tiny chips particles quickly turns into the most delicious treat you have ever had. Yuri engages the kiss, starts off what could have been an equal dance but she quickly succumbs to your sudden dominance. 
Call it a return to your monkey brain, anything but civilized. You fuck her mouth with your tongue, play with her hair lovingly while tormenting her slender frame with rubs and squeezes. Yuri’s giggles urge you on more, you become bolder, reach into the top of her bra—there is no bra, just bare tits to fondle and knead the way only Daehwi would, though he has transitioned to eating Yuri’s ass, thong pushed to the side. 
You’ve lost sight of Juseon, but who the fuck cares when you can stick your hands down to where the sun doesn’t shine and find Yuri’s pussy. She is laughably wet, her juices dripping on your finger while your teeth move to bite her collarbone. She moans and hugs your body, pressing herself further down your length which has been an issue in the tight confines of your jeans for way too long—
“Yuri,” Juseon suddenly shouts. “I think you’re the last one to make a wish.”
You pull out your fingers from those drenched folds and even Daehwi backs off from the feast that is Yuri’s ass. Everyone listens closely when Yuri finally gets her wish out.
“I want you three boys to finally get your cocks out and fuck them into my tight holes until I can’t walk anymore. Don’t think, just fuck me.
“I’m your semester trophy tonight.”
Juseon suddenly stands next to you, feet in the cushions of his couch and his pants meet them quickly. He whips out his cock and as if her lips were magnetically drawn to it, Yuri starts to kiss and lick over it. From tip to base, she does not leave out one spot. Equally sudden is Daehwi, who’s pants you can’t even see anymore, but his cock is clearly pressed against Yuri’s cheeks and then on the ring in between them.
To your surprise—not that you ever actively thought about it—their cocks are just average in size, maybe even below that. Yours might be bigger, but they get girls and relationships all the time—your thoughts shouldn’t become so weird, especially because you have already pulled out your own dick and begun to stroke it to the hardest it has ever been.
Yuri, while her face is getting fucked slowly, her boyfriend’s cock entering and leaving her lips, gently places an unwrapped condom into your sweaty hands. Good thing that they are prepared, because you of course did not bring something like this to what could’ve been a harmless party.
Harmless college parties? Yeah, no, who are you kidding. Just roll the plastic contraceptive over your hard shaft and then try to find Yuri’s pussy. Those hot folds, they are right there—further down. You rub along her midriff, navel, even her crotch but are unable to find it.
Yuri pops Juseon’s cock from her lips and smiles at you while her hand continues to lazily jerk the throbbing, wet thing. She reaches in between your legs and finds your thing poking her belly. 
“Should I help you?” she asks and you avoid her eyes in embarrassment—only for a second thought. Something draws you to their sparkle, lewd and thrilled, while she tries to adjust on your lap until— 
“Ah, fuck, Daehwi, wait!”
“Wha-what is it?” he asks with a somewhat annoyed growl, hands wrapped around Yuri’s waist, cockhead perfectly aligned with her asshole.
“Give me a second. I want all of you to thrust in me simultaneously. I never felt something like that.
“It’ll be great.”
You gulp when Yuri gets you to the entrance of her light pink cavern. This is it, the moment you’ve been waiting for for a long time—not really waiting, just dreaming of. Luckily, you don’t need to dream anymore and just focus on not exploding the moment you—
“Now, fuck, now.”
The signal sends your hips upwards in a thrust. It’s not a full thrust, only half of your cock fills Yuri’s insides. You couldn’t commit to all of it; you need to flex your thighs to keep yourself from cumming too quickly. Daehwi and Junseo do not seem to care about that: both went all in from the get go, filling Yuri’s mouth and ass to the brim with their dicks and their thrusts don’t stop. 
Daehwi’s rough, feral pumping gapes Yuri’s ass and you feel every second of it. He is on the other side, careless, just like in the stories from the countless one-night stands that loved his enthusiasm. This is not enthusiasm, more unbridled sexual desire. He chases his own orgasm every time her ass meets his crotch.
For Junseo it’s similar. He seems to really enjoy Yuri’s drool running down her chin, sometimes even stopping the thrusts just to spread it all over her face with either his tip or a finger. You totally understand why he indulges in the way Yuri looks, all messy and silly, but you’d love to hear her moan louder—you want to see the strongest kind of bliss on her features.
Instead of your own pleasure, you try to find Yuri’s spots and poke your cock against them purposefully. You’re a lot slower than the other two, but your stamina does not decrease at all. Unlike Daehwi, you don’t need any brakes to catch your breath. You just continue to fuck Yuri in this mesmerizing rhythm that has her humming on her boyfriend’s shaft.
“Is this good, do you feel good?” you ask her in between deep breaths, arms around her torso, while she finds stability on your shoulder again.
“Yesh, yes,” she mumbles as Junseo flops out of her mouth. You see him shaking, losing his mind when she starts to twist his tip with two fingers. “You can go faster, harder—don’t think of me. I’m just the reward.”
“Too bad.” Whisper in her ear. “All I can think about is my reward.”
Yuri’s expression shifts, like she is trying to challenge you, like she doesn’t believe that you really care about her, like she—and then she can only think of Daehwi again, who goes on another rampage in her back entrance, while covering her ass with hard spanks.
A tender pain on your lower lip when she bites it. You halt your thrusts, but Daehwi makes it feel like Yuri bounces and rubs on your entire cock. You hear both the guys scream profanities while your own profanities are stuck, unable to come out because of Yuri’s bite.
“Yuri, babe, I’m—” Junseo can barely stand. “I’m so close.”
“In my mouth?” she asks, cutely-lewdly.
“N-no, I want to… finish on your ass.”
“Great idea.” Yuri jerks his cock harder and starts to stick out her ass which seems to trigger another orgasm. Instead of politely asking, Daehwi just growls like a wolf to the moon and Yuri feels his thick cum flood her rectum. “Yes, fuck! Fill that ass, creampie me!”
Now that wasn’t cute at all. Just lewd. Lewd like her fucking face when Daehwi’s cock loudly pops out and Junseo sprays his cum all over those red buttocks. She looks thoroughly satisfied with all the white on her skin, in her hole—maybe she isn’t thinking yet of the mess on her couch, the carpet or on her clothes. 
“Fuck, guys, that was—
“Why haven’t you finished yet?”
Yuri looks at you, as if she expects you to just burst from the look in her eyes. No, she underestimates you. Your stamina is still going strong and your enjoyment of her cunt hasn’t diminished by a single percent.
“I-I can still keep going!”
“Really? Let’s see about that.”
As if you had fucked a million times already, Yuri’s riding and your upwards fucking synchronizes instantaneously. When she crashes down, all of your cock fills her hole and when she rises, you’re right at her entrance, ready to repeat what can only be described as heaven—an entry to happiness. 
But happiness isn’t a dominant emotion right now, hell, you don’t even want it. You just want Yuri and her snug pussy always around you, hot and milking you with that flawless texture. The pink thing should accept you the entire night and with how eagerly she slams herself down on your manhood, she wants it too. 
Maybe Yuri feels happiness, maybe that is your wishful thinking blurring with her mindless expression, mindless moans, mindless tongue that suddenly searches for yours and you engage in a tornado of kisses that leads to Yuri resigning. Her body is all yours now, yours alone, and she is begging to cum. Trophy this, award that, in the end she has her needs and you will fulfill them.
Hold onto her waist and like in the final battle of a video game, use all your knowledge and skill to stimulate the inside of her pussy. Nothing can stop you, not the cum from her gaping hole that drips on your balls, not her weight laying on top of you, not the shocked gaze of Junseo—he must have never seen his girlfriend get fucked so well.
“Fuck, I’m-I’m,
“I feel so good, don’t stop.”
Yuri’s whine feels like a victory. You know she will climax before you do. This is all you’ve ever wanted. After this, you can let your feelings for her die in peace. But for these last few thrusts, she is all yours. Her entire body and mind is occupied by you, and so you claim her with a gentle kiss and a not-so-gentle flick on her clit.
“Who makes you cum?”
“You! You, you make me—ah!”
That scream is so long, so good; she is so tight, so perfect. Yuri trembles, electric shocks of pleasure surge all across her body. Her cunt is so tight and hot, you don’t feel the condom anymore and release your seed into it with lazy pumps. Yuri mewls when she feels the hot sticky mess which sadly misses her hot, messy holes and instead sticks to your dick.
“Okay, fuck,” Junseo sighs and sinks onto the carpet. “That was hot, that was crazy.”
“I knew you’d like it,” Yuri weakly says, a bright but tired smile on her lips as she looks back to her boyfriend. She turns back to you, face in adorable scrunches “Lemme, uhm… clean up.”
“Oh, yeah.” You quickly try to get your composure, because you’re still balls deep inside her. “Fuck, sorry about that.”
“Don’t apologize.
Junseo can never hear that. He never will. And Daehwi is long asleep. Those following words are just for you.
“That was the best thing ever.”
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vamossainz55 · 9 months
Text
let's just drive (charles leclerc x reader)
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inspired by a request from an anon: would you like to write one for Charles where he can't drive his normal car (for whatever reason), so he asks the reader for help, but she's kind of nervous and thinks there will be some judging? a/n: i took the liberty of making her scared she'll crash, i hope that's okay. i just feel like it fit the prompt better (+ there's something that I don't like about this but idky- so my sincere apologies if you also feel it)
“Here you go,” Charles says, casually dropping the keys in your hand before giving your cheek a kiss. You’re not sure if he doesn’t notice the way all your blood has drained out of your face, or if he’s choosing to ignore it because he doesn’t mention it. Instead he circles around the car to go into the passenger seat.
He fumbles a bit with the door before closing it, having to awkwardly reach over with his left arm to pull the seat belt from the right. He struggles over the cast that’s wrapped around his arm, and for a second you feel sorry for him, but all of this goes away the moment he looks over at you expectantly. 
“Come on,” He says. You notice the smile he attempts to fight back, the way he sucks his bottom lip between his teeth and looks away. So he did notice I look nervous, you think to yourself. Dickhead. 
Passenger princess. That is what all your friends had decided to call you once you had started dating your boyfriend. It had been an off-handed joke at first, one that was pegged because of your boyfriend’s career, but here you were almost two years into your relationship and the nickname had stuck.
Over the last two years you found yourself behind the wheel less and less, whilst finding more and more comfort in riding shotgun. It’s not that you hated driving, far from that, but he just loved it, offering to take you wherever you needed to go. 
That is exactly why the sight of his 488 Pista is making you feel sick, extremely sick. 
Regardless of your nerves, you somehow find yourself in the driver’s seat, pulling the seat forward to adjust for your own height. Somehow the car feels even scarier from the inside and you wonder whether calling an uber could be a choice.
“Did you really have to break your arm this week?” You ask as you turn the key. Of course you’re joking, well kind of. You just didn’t understand why you were the one who had to drive. The car roars as soon as the engine is on, and you try not to think how much power it actually has. You can feel your boyfriend’s eyes on you, amused by your whole ordeal. 
Your hands are clammy as you hold the steering wheel, looking into the wing mirror. You’re about to change gears, eyes shifting back to the rearview mirror. Reverse, I can do it, you think. There’s a small second of silence right when you’re about to step on the clutch and you can practically feel Charles’ eyes burning into you. 
The car reverses, only for a moment before it rocks back forward. You instantly wince, raising your shoulders to your face to wait for the impact that never comes. You hear a snicker from next to you and you exhale a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding. 
“You cannot be staring at me like that!” You say, cheeks flushed red, looking at him. Charles only continues to look at you, a smile playing on his lips as he shakes his head. He reaches over to hold your arm, thumb slowly rubbing at your skin. The touch sends a shiver down your spine. 
“You’re acting like you don’t drive when I’m off racing.” Charles laughs in between his words, letting out a soft wheeze. 
“Yeah- I drive my car. Not a ferrari.” You murmur, trying your best to let the heat leave your cheeks.
“You’re not going to crash it you know?” 
“But what if I do?” Your question comes out high pitched and whiny, a stark contrast to how relaxed and laid back Charles seemed. He sucks a sharp breath between his teeth before letting it out with a shake of his head and a smile on his lips. 
“First off all- you won’t,” He says as he reaches to turn off the car before reaching for your hand. “And second of all, so what if you do?” Charles asks, snorting at the shocked expression you give him. 
“I’m sorry- are we forgetting how much your car costs?” You try to pull your hand away, wanting to prove your point about how stressed you actually are. He doesn’t let you though, only giving your clammy hand a squeeze.
“Actually, I don’t know how much it costs,” Charles says matter-of-factly. You can only groan, because of course Charles Leclerc does not know how much his Ferrari costs. 
“Over two hundred thousand euros Charles.” His brow raises slightly, showing slight surprise and you’re a bit relieved by it, hoping that it would be enough for the idea of you driving to stray away. It doesn’t seem to work in your favor though. 
“Wait- did you google how much my car costs before this?” 
“How could I not?” Charles is back to laughing again, shaking his head in amusement. =
“Amour, it is going to be okay,” Charles promises. “I trust you.” His words are enough to get your shoulders to relax a bit, and for you to take a deep breath. 
“But you love your car so much- what if anything happens?” You watch the way he brings your hand to his face, leaning down to pepper kisses into your knuckles. It helps in relaxing you, allowing you to let out a soft breath. 
“Come on now, I love my car, but- I love you more.” He smiles at you as he gently puts your hand back down, but you don’t give in, only continuing to look at him with your lips pulled down into a pout. “If you crash it- which I am not saying you will, I won’t be mad. I’m the one that asked you to drive it,” Your silence fills the car and he squeezes your hand again to catch your attention. “Hm?” 
“Are you sure?” You ask and Charles only laughs, rolling his eyes before pecking your lips. 
“I,” he says before giving you another kiss, “promise that,” and another, “I love you” and another, “more than my stupid car” he finishes, sealing the promise with one last kiss. He takes his time with this one, enjoying the way your lips had curved up into a small smile. Bingo.
“Now will you drive?” He claims victory when you nod in response, pulling away to lean back onto his seat. There’s a moment of silence as your fingers shadow to start the car, but another thought enters your mind. 
“Can I have one more kiss?” He knows you’re stalling, and at this point you’ll both be more than twenty minutes late, but he smiles anyways. 
“Of course,” He answers, coming closer again. Who’s to blame him though, he did love you most.  
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acourtofwhatthefuck · 2 months
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Hello, hope you're doing alright. I have a pretty twisted one shot request concerning our amazing Shadowsinger. I was looking at the super natural dark dialogue prompts list and I feel like the #24 and #36 would fit perfectly for my request.
So basically: I was thinking about Azriel capturing the reader. She's a spy from the Spring Court and she was on a mission wandering at the border of the Night Court. When the reader wakes up, she's tied up in Azriel torture room. She also realizes how Azriel seems to be drawn to her. As she tries to find a way to make him untie her, she remembers something about Illyrians obssesion with bargains and deals. She offers to make a deal with him that the first one to make the other cum earn a favor. If she wins he spares her life, and if not he can kill her. And like as they conclude the pack, a tattoo appears on both of them and bla bla bla... and she ends up winning this challenge maybe?
Can't wait to see if you'll be willing to write this! I think it would have a lot of potential if written by you. Anyways, keep up your good work. I love your writing.
Okay, I know I said my next release would be the POM bonus bits, and then I’d be working on my other pieces, but I got this request and had immediate inspiration for it, so here it is!
Thank you to whoever sent this in! I hope I did it justice. It was very fun to write! I hope you enjoy 🫶🏻
The prompts you requested to be included in this will be written in bold.
Note: I haven’t tagged anyone in this because I desperately need to sort out my tag lists and haven’t had the chance. I’ll add them later if I get the time. Sorry!
Warnings: Smut! 18+, minors dni. NSFW. Some details of aggressive behaviour. Azriel being a sore ass LOSER.
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Lust is a Losing Game — Azriel x Reader.
You can feel the caress of Night before your eyes open.
Every single court you have trespassed and traversed has its own distinct feel. The Autumn Court feels perpetually — and unsurprisingly — like a stroll through a forest, touched by brisk air and hues of oranges, yellows, reds. Your home court — Spring — has a feeling of renewed hope; like the first rays of sun after a long, harsh winter.
The Night Court is blood-drenched, rippling darkness, and the allure of scandal, of want, of lust.
Night time is for secrets and exploration. It’s for burning the bridge between who you are in the daylight and becoming something…else. It’s exciting, and it’s coaxing, and—
Cold, sharp metal prods beneath your chin. Its point is lethal. Any wrong move, and you’re bleeding.
Perhaps even more lethal is the quiet voice that commands, “Eyes open.”
Slowly, you comply — because you are both intrigued and wise. Intrigued by where you went wrong and where you ended up. Wise, because you know that cold, granite voice.
It doesn’t surprise you in the least to open your eyes and find Azriel the shadowsinger stood in front of you, his blade at your throat.
You know of him, of course — spymaster of the Night Court, a rare species of fae, far more powerful than many realise. You’ve sat across from him during terse meetings between courts and been the target of those guarded, icy stares. You’ve never heard him utter more than a few words at a time; he is spoken for by reputation, by violence and threat and battle.
But you’d know that voice anywhere.
You peer up at him through eyes blurred by some sort of power. And when your lips tilt up into a smile, a subtle tick of his jaw tells you it incenses him.
“Hello, Azriel.” You rasp.
The blade presses into your skin as he asks, “What were you doing at the border of our court?”
“Picking wildflowers. Foraging berries. Making a daisy chain. All the things a lady loves to do.”
A quiet noise sounds in his throat. “Is that what you are? A lady?”
“I’m whatever you want me to be, shadowsinger.”
His answering smile is cruel. A harsher press, and his blade nicks your throat. A drop of warm blood blooms on your skin.
Your eyes, rapidly clearing, take quick stock of your surroundings. The room is dark and damp and cold, empty save for the chair on which you sit — to which you are constrained. You can scent the blood of a thousand previous victims of the shadowsinger, and you imagine the vacancy of the space must have been more intimidating to them, somehow, than if the room were filled to the brim with torture instruments. The lack thereof tells anyone who finds themselves here that the Night Court’s spymaster does not need such things to do his work.
You try to shift in the chair, and find yourself well and truly stuck in place. Your gaze drops to your feet, where shadows act as manacles, as firm and strong and steel. Though your hands are restrained around the back of the chair, the cool touch tells you that a shadow binds them, too.
Azriel follows your gaze. A smug smile graces his mouth as he watches you try and fail to move.
“An impressive little trick.” You offer, nodding to the shadows around your ankles. “Now be a gentleman and untie me.”
“Tell me what you were doing at our border, and maybe I will.”
“Tell me your secrets and I’ll tell you mine.”
“You’re not really in the position to barter, right now, are you?”
“And yet, here I am.” You smile. “Bartering.”
He stares down at you, shrouded in shadows, in night. His aloofness has been perfected over centuries, but you somehow know where to look in order to tell — you’re getting on his nerves.
A slight angling of his head. Shifting on his feet. He drags the tip of that blade up, not pressing quite hard enough to draw more blood, but to make a twisted heat enter your veins. The blade stops at your cheek.
“I don’t know how you do things in the Spring Court.” His breath caresses your face. “But I can’t imagine it’s part of your job description to be a smartass who can’t keep her mouth shut.”
Your eyes flick down to that blade. Back up to his gaze. “I can’t imagine it’s part of yours to lust over me so tirelessly.”
The shadowsinger actually falters.
Something tells you he would never do that in front of somebody else.
His teeth grit. He bites out, “Tell me why the fuck you were at the border—”
“I’ve seen you, you know.” A satisfied smirk curls your lips. You will not give away that your arms and legs are beginning to ache. “I’ve seen the way you’ve looked at me for years.”
A clatter bounces off the walls as he tosses his dagger to the floor. Can’t be one that means much to him, then. You almost laugh, but a scarred hand is gripping your chin to the point of pain. He tilts — yanks — your chin up. “Pray, tell, how do I look at you?”
“With hunger.”
“Hatred.”
“Lust.”
“Loathing.”
“Like you want to touch me.”
“I am going,” he snarls, “to wrap my hands around your throat and—”
“Fuck me?”
“Kill you.”
A mocking pout puckers your lips. “Less sexy.”
"You must be a fool," his fingers bite into your skin, "to laugh in the face of such danger."
"What danger would that be? You've handed me your threats. What are you waiting for, Azriel? Kill me."
He could easily retrieve his blade and gut you then and there. You know it. He knows it.
And yet he doesn't do it.
He clenches his jaw so hard that you hear his teeth clash. He squeezes your chin, calluses and scars grazing you. It feels...good.
But then a growl is ripping from deep within his chest, and he's tearing his hand away and pivoting on the spot. He's confident enough in the shadow bindings to turn his back to you, clearly.
You just smile. He can't do it. Can't kill you.
"I'll do you the courtesy of asking one last time." His voice is strained. "Why were you snooping around our border."
"Perhaps I was hoping you'd find me and tie me to a chair. I'm into that kind of stuff, you know. We could make this fun."
"You think this room is intended for fun?"
"I think you and I could have fun anywhere, shadowsinger."
He says nothing. You watch as he sucks in a deep breath, steels himself. By his command, a shadow dances out and retrieves his blade from the floor. His fist flexes at his side.
Perhaps you can irritate him enough that he'll either kill you or let you leave out of pure exasperation. Or turn on the tears and plead innocence, that you're just a foolish, foolish girl doing her High Lord's bidding.
Or perhaps you can have fun.
You scan your brain for what you know about this court. How you can use it to your advantage — use Azriel to your advantage. An idea knits itself in the twisted avenues of your mind.
"This court has a thing for bargains, does it not?" You watch Azriel's shoulders tense at the sound of your voice. "How about making a bargain with me?"
He chokes on a scoff. "Why would I want to make a bargain with you?"
"Because you want me."
Slowly, he turns. His eyes are narrowed, mouth pinched. He looks two seconds away from using that blade to wipe your head clean from your neck.
But then he smiles, cruelly and coldly. "How very sure of yourself you sound."
You mimic that smile. "I am." Damn right you are. "So here is my deal: you toy with that lust however you like. We tease each other. Coax reactions from each other."
"Where is the bargain in that?" No outright refusal.
"If I make you cum first, shadowsinger," your eyes fall to his breeches. You could swear you glimpse the outline of a bulge. "If I make you cum first, I get to walk out of here with my head still attached to my body. But if you make me cum first...well. You get to know why I was snooping around the Night Court border, and you can send my head back to my High Lord in a pretty little box."
He stares at you for what feels like so, so long. Head to toe, his eyes rake over you. His shadows whisper in his ears, things you don't need nor care to hear.
Because you might not have his shadows, but you are a spy, just as he is. And you know his mind is already made up.
Shadowsinger, spymaster, feared member of the infamous Night Court — but still, a male weakened by lust. Lust for you that has driven him mad for a long, long time.
Still, he tries to keep up a front. He sneers at you, "You'd so willingly barter away your life?"
You smile. Simply, prettily. "It turns me on."
Oh, he's lost to his need. There's a newer scent that has joined the present ones of cedar and night-chilled mist and bloodstains. This one is deeper, smokier. Spicier.
He points his blade at you, the tip glimmering. And the shadow binds fall away as he demands, "Undress."
Your hands fall back to your sides. "Are you saying you agree to my terms?"
"Yes. Now take. Your fucking. Clothes off."
"What way is that to talk to a lady?"
"You are no lady—" His words fall short as, with a snap of your fingers, your clothes disappear. Leave you in nothing but your undergarments. His eyes drink in the brassiere, the silky little fabric that hangs from your hips. He swallows. "And I am no gentleman."
A spy you may be — someone who throws themself into danger and risk and dirt and blood, time and time again. But you never see a reason not to wear pretty underwear while doing so. And gods, in this moment, you're very glad of that choice.
It's the same colour as the siphons that adorn the male before you. The coldness in Azriel's eyes is replaced by intense, raw heat. He takes a step towards you, but you kick out a leg.
"Your turn." You say.
He pauses. Chucks his dagger aside again.
And then his clothes are gone.
He doesn't seem the slightest bit fazed by the fact that he stands utterly naked before you. So much golden, sculpted skin on show. All over, white scars tell the stories of previous injuries. His body is a novel written over time.
That silky underwear of yours is already soaked as you take your fill of him. For a moment, you think you might stumble in your bravado. He's huge and hard and standing to attention. Utterly perfect.
But you sit up straight in the chair and plant your hands on the arms. Your legs part, and Azriel hungrily tracks the movement.
"There is only one rule." You tell him. "We don't want to make this too easy, after all."
His jaw flexes. Eyes don't stray from the growing damp patch between your thighs. "What's the rule."
"You can touch me. You can lick me. You can put your cock in my mouth and my hand and rub it against my skin. But you can't fuck me."
He starts, pupils blowing wide. "But—"
"Not today." Your lips curl up. "But if I win, and I walk out of here? Some other time, Azriel, you can fuck me."
"You are wicked."
"Do you accept my rule?"
"Yes."
You are wicked, indeed. You widen that gap between your legs until you're hooking them over the arms of the chair. Baring your silk-covered cunt to him. His eyes damn near roll into the back of his head at the sight.
"Do you think you can stand to touch me without fucking me?" You hum, your fingers dancing down to that, sweet, sweet spot. You run them over the dampness, biting your lip. "I don't think you can."
"You underestimate me." Azriel growls. "And you're going to cum first."
There is no opportunity for you to volley a response. Not as Azriel surges forward and yanks you out of the chair, his arms securing you. His firm, velvety cock presses against your stomach. His lips slide over yours in a harsh, bruising kiss.
A male of natural elegance and grace, he doesn't even falter in the kiss or his steps as he marches you back, back, until you're pressed up against a cold wall. You nip his bottom lip and reach between your bodies, wanting to feel the pulsing weight of his cock in your palm, but his hands are grabbing your wrists and holding them above your head.
"No hands." He snarls onto your lips. "Just my cock and your cunt. Whoever cums first is the loser."
You almost want to laugh. So, so easy this will be.
But then he's letting go of your hands and pinning you with a knee. And out of fucking nowhere, a slim bottle appears between his fingers. You watch, leaning against the cold surface of the wall, as he pulls the stopper out of the bottle and tilts it towards you.
Oil drips onto your chest. Rolls down your breasts, your stomach. Azriel watches with predatory focus as it floods to where he wants it — soaking your underwear.
The blue silk darkens, sticks to your skin. Showcases everything that Azriel so desperately wants, but everything he will not get — today.
And then so quickly, he's hoisting your leg at his hip. So quickly, his cock is pressing into your soaking undergarments.
He positions his length between your thighs and guides it through your clothed folds. Both of you let out an immediate gasp at the taunting sensation — that a mere bit of fabric separates you from what you both want.
"Is this how you're going to play it?" Your head falls back, teeth digging into your lower lip. "You think thrusting through my clothes is going to stop you from cumming?"
"No." He makes a small noise, slowly rolling his hips. Watches his glistening cock rubbing against the silk. "But I think I'm going to make you cum fast from it."
"And then you get to kill me."
"And then," the head of his cock nudges your clit, "I get to kill you."
The sensation is divine, you can’t deny it. A coiled, aching pleasure that sits tightly in your lower belly. Azriel hears your intake of breath, and he smiles like this will be easy for him. You’re having none of that.
You’re thankful for your refined stealth and balance as you clamp your leg tighter around him, pull him harder against you. His hands press flat against the wall either side of your head, and you both gasp as his cock rubs so torturously against you, up and down and up and down.
“Gods,” He grunts, dipping down to brush his lips against yours. “This is torture.”
You smile. “Does it feel good?”
“Yes.”
“Do you want me to remove my underwear? You still can’t fuck me, though.”
A suffering groan chokes out of him, and he throws his head back. Because yes, he fucking wants you to remove your underwear. Yes, he wants to feel his bare skin rubbing against your bare skin.
But gods, the temptation to slide his cock into you is going to be unbearable.
But even though he knows that, and you know that, he smiles like this is nothing. He bites out, pleasure wavering his voice, “Why not? It’ll only make you lose.”
“I think you’re giving yourself a little too much credit.” You say, and then your underwear is gone, leaving you naked and dripping with nothing to shield you.
Not expecting it so fast, Azriel’s cock slides easily through your folds — and the head nudges your entrance. Very nearly slips in. He growls and halts the roll of his hips.
“Oops.” You smirk. “Careful, shadowsinger.”
“You’re fucking insufferable.” He bites back, and then he’s kissing you.
The kiss robs you of breath and of words. All you can do is twine your arms around his neck and welcome the sensation of him fucking through your folds, your wetness his pleasure. You’re lost to the feeling of him bumping against your clit, rubbing against it. Your legs are beginning to tremble.
“I want to fuck you.” Azriel moans, dropping his head to take in the sight of his cock against your pussy, never entering, never going deeper.
“I know.” Your fingernails dig into his shoulders. “And you have wanted to for a very long time.”
“Yes.” He can’t even deny it. “Yes.”
“You think about me.”
“Yes.”
“You wonder what it’s like to be inside me.”
“Yes.”
“But not today.” Your hands stroke down his muscled arms, and you moan as he grinds his cock against your clit. “Not today.”
“Nor any other day.” His hand fists in your hair, yanking your head up. “Because I will have your head. Cum for me, lady.”
He kisses you again, and gods, you want to cum. Every single inch of you begs and trembles for it. You’re clenching around nothing, desperate to feel him inside you, fucking into you, spilling into you—
But through your pleasured haze, you remember: you will be victorious. Azriel cannot win.
And so when he’s kissing you and kissing you, moans catching in his throat and landing in your mouth, hips faltering with every thrust, you pull your lips from his and sink your teeth into his neck with a harsh bite. You’ve always imagined he’d like that.
And simultaneously, you lock him between your thighs and roll your hips torturously slow, dragging every last sensation from him.
Azriel’s cock, nestled snugly between the folds of your cunt, spasms and twitches. He slams his hands against the wall and goes still. Tries to pull back the control.
But it’s too late for that.
“Fuck!” He shouts, and then ropes of cum are spurting out of him and landing on your stomach, your breasts, your arms. Beads of it roll down his cock. He trembles hard, panting, groaning, growling.
And you suck harshly at his neck. Suck until it leaves a mark. And then pull away with a smile.
Breathing so, so heavily, Azriel’s gaze drops down to his cock like the damn thing has betrayed him. He’s wide-eyed and outraged. He’s not sure what’s just happened.
A horrid longing still aches between your legs and makes you want to continue until you’re exploding, too. But the triumph of a win is pleasure in itself.
“Well, well, well.” You glance down at the cum now coating your skin. “I do believe I was right.”
“What—” Azriel breathes, shaking out of his lust. “What kind of witchcraft was that?” He touches his neck, where you bit him. As though the answer lies there.”
You shrug. “No witchcraft, though I’m flattered you think so. You simply lost the game.”
“I. Don’t. Lose.”
“You just did.” You pat his shoulder. “There, there.”
He rips away, so fast that you almost fall. “Get the fuck away from me.”
“Gladly.” With a snap of your fingers, you’re squeaky clean and clothed once more. Azriel’s clothes return, too. “And I’ll do so with my pretty head still on my shoulders—
“Get out.”
“Because I won the game—”
“Get. Out.”
“A bargain’s a bargain, after all—”
“I will not tell you again.” His hand grabs the back of your neck, hard enough to bruise, and he marches you to the door, yanking it open. “Out.”
You’re thrown into a dim-lit hallway, your body colliding with a cold brick wall. You throw Azriel a smile over your shoulder, despite your teeth singing at the impact.
“Try not to wank over me too much!” You call, as he slams the door shut behind him. “See you around!”
It’s only once you’ve winnowed back to your own court, and you’re bathing the day from your skin, that you notice the small black band inked into your upper arm. You scrub at it until it’s red raw. It doesn’t budge.
The mark of a bargain. But you had always believed that the tattoos of bargains disappeared once the terms were fulfilled…
But if I win, and I walk out of here? Some other time, Azriel, you can fuck me…
It had all been bravado. And yet…it had unwittingly been woven into the bargain.
Some other time, Azriel, you can fuck me.
That’s the only way you’re getting that mark off your skin.
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fandom-which-one · 4 months
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I need people to write so many fics for Trolls 3.
My friends went and saw it and immediately were like " we need these as fics and hope someone finds inspiration to write some based off of these:
1. Branch is the one captured (alternative he somehow sacrifices himself to swap with it save Floyd)
2. All the drama lowdown of the bros finding out and actually reacting to the fact that Grandma died and they left their baby bro for over 2p years essentially alone, even if they were not aware that he was alone.
2B. Plus the fact that because of the trauma he spent so much of his life gray and while he has more color again he still has some permanent effects from that ex: while not black his hair is still a darker blue and his skin isn't as pigmented blue as it was when he was a kid.
3. Really just any addressing of Branches fear of abandonment (like when they are singing as (Sp)Bruce's restaurant he's singing to them the lines of the song "you're all I ever wanted ...ect")
4. Any situation where they came looking for him sooner.
5. This is a bit more out there but I'm including in the list for my friend, "Somehow Branch gets turned into a kid again, maybe without full memory but enough that they have to build trust with him again because the fear of abandonment is still there (poppy can just be made a friend in this for slight au purposes if regressed Branch is permanent)
6 literally just all the Branch whump and hurt/comfort fics people wanna give.
Once again please feel free to use these as prompts if you want or as inspiration for fics.
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mochinomnoms · 2 months
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WOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! Congrats on 1k followers Mochi (っ˘з(˘⌣˘ ) ♡ you so so so so deserve it. You always make me smile when I see your posts so I hope you have fun writing them.
If I might make a request, could I have Jade, Trey, and Ace with a romantic prompt 16 (“I won't lose you again.”)? I want to see them cry a lot just a tiny bit. Feel free to let the vibes guide you, I trust it will be very good.
-Yuri
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jade leech, trey clover, ace trappola (separate) x gn!reader [tags] — angst in Ace's, hurt in Trey's, humor in Jade, implied time loop theory [wc} - 1,000+ each prompt 16: “I won't lose you again.” song: Be, Talk (Hozier, “Wasteland, Baby!”), Francesca (Hozier, “Unreal Unearth”) note - @yuri-is-online got it! went a lil wild cause I got massive inspo lmao. Also, let me know if yall can guess the anime I got inspired from with Ace's francesca (1k event)
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“Be like the love that discovered the sin (Lover, be good to me) / That freed the first man and will do so again / And, lover, be good to me (Lover, be good to me)”
There were several things that caught Jade Leech’s attention during his life, but only a few kept his attention, after which he’d abandon his ‘toy’. Fungi, mountains, and poisonous flowers, were exceptions, to name a few. He had to admit to himself (and only himself) that there was one thing that revolved in his mind all this time later, dug deep into his brain like the mycelium of his beloved mushrooms in the forest floor. 
One. Thing. You. The funny little human from the broken down dorm. The funny little human with not a single ounce of magic in their veins. The cute little human that was captivated by his merform, an entirely foreign concept to them. The sweet little human with the even sweeter crush on him all throughout his second and third years. 
Perhaps it was cruel of him to entertain your affections with no real desire to follow through on them. Actually, scratch that, it was cruel of him to do so. It was just so…interesting to him at the time. He grew alongside his brother and Azul, none of them exactly being the most sought after during their childhood or teens. They were feared, each of them for multiple reasons, not exactly prime boyfriend material, despite some of their attempts to curate a specially crafted facade. 
Yet, you were so bewitched by him, enthralled, beguiled, and dare he say lovesick with him despite all the signs screaming “DANGER! DANGER! DANGER!” So please, forgive him for shamelessly flirting, and finding entertainment in your reactions. 
The dilated pupils as he leaned down to make eye contact. The sharp intakes when he cornered you against a library shelf, nonchalantly reaching for a random book. The shiver down your spine as he would lean over in class to whisper some nonsense in your ear regarding the class. All for the sole purpose to see you blush a pretty color and get flustered. Not for the jump in his heart at the thought of being revered so sweetly, or a potential lover being so good to him. 
It was just a bit of fun. That’s all it was. That’s all it was meant to be, when he finally left for his internship his third year. He paid no mind to the wistful look on your face as he gave his goodbyes, nor the strange creak in his heart at the sight.
Jade Leech was all he’s always been, and all he will ever be: a man that left his toys once they ceased to interest him.
Which is why he loathed that he’s been unable to remove you from his mind. Though, did he really? It wasn’t annoyance or hate, but an aching yearning that resided in his being. Jade spent many months tossing and turning in bed as he dreamt of you: shy smiles, soft eyes, and sweet words. He wanted, he needed to be free from this love-struck feeling, this infatuation. It was dragging him down from his finely constructed pedestal, like a sin striking an angel down from heaven. 
Yet, coming back to campus now, presenting his internship research at the end of the year, Jade found himself strangely content with the concept as he watched you. You’d taken on your role at NRC quite beautifully, and were the object of affection for many admirers, much to his dismay. Currently, you were attending to visitors, directing them to their destinations and helping the fourth years find their old clubs and friends, while he admired from around the corner.  
You were as you’ve always been, sweet, cute, and clueless to your surroundings as he stalked closer until he was behind you, leaning down until his lips inched close to your ear. 
He purred breathlessly into your ear, “Oh Prefect~ Is that you, my dear?” Jade didn’t miss the shudder that flew up your spine as you jumped away in shock. 
“EEP! W-what the—” You whipped your head around to berate the man before realizing who it was. “Oh, jeez, Jade! You’re back—why’d you do that?!”
The tall man chuckled as he straightened to his normal height. Oh, how he missed you. And your reactions, of course. 
“I simply missed your delightful expressions, you always have been rather reactive with me, haven’t you?”
“What—nooo. I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Huffing, you crossed your arms and jerked your gaze away in irritation. At least, it would be if not for the blush on your cheeks. 
“Fuhuhuh, that blush suggests otherwise.” A giddy feeling filled his chest as Jade inched closer to you, in which you backed away. This continued until he managed to corner you against the stone way of the hallway. 
“This is a familiar sight, is it not?” Jade cooed as he leaned down again, a hand reaching to caress your cheek. “I did miss you, didn’t you—”
A smack. Jade blinked in surprise as his hand was thrown back by your own. Now you looked more annoyed than flustered. 
“I’m sure you did.” You hissed sarcastically, narrowing your gaze at him. “Ha! Please, more like missed messing with me. If you really missed me, you’d’ve called or messaged me like the others in our class. Even Azul checked up on me!”
Jade…hadn’t been aware of that. He’s been too into his own head, reliving memories with you that it hadn’t occurred to him that you’d actually might lose affection for him. 
The thought made him a little sick. 
He pouted, taking your chin in his hand to tilt your head up to his. “Is that so? Please forgive me for my most egregious sin. I don’t wish to lose you again.”
“Hmph, again?” You made a sound of offense. Despite your words, you still looked up at Jade with a  shy gaze, eyes darting down to his lips every so often. 
You never had me in the first place.” You scoffed, trying to avert your blushing gaze, though he kept a firm grip, moving to squeeze your cheeks into a pucker.  
Jade chuckled, “Your previous actions say otherwise, though I am quite a fool for not taking what was mine in the first place.”
“Y-yours?! You-you-you can’t just say things like that—eep!” You let you a deliciously cute squeak, which he swallowed up as he stole a kiss. 
“Now, now my little lover, be good to me and let me revel in your affections, I’ve derived myself from them for far too long now, have I not?”
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And I'd be the immediate forgiveness in Eurydice / Imagine being loved by me / I won't deny I've got in my mind now (Hey, yeah) / All the things I would do
He wasn’t sure why he had any faith in Crowley to get you back home. Really, that’s on him for thinking the headmage would put any work into your return home. If Trey had known that you’d still be here in Twisted Wonderland, years after his graduation, he wouldn’t have ever broken up with you. 
Granted, it hadn’t exactly been his choice in the first place, as you had abruptly ended the relationship towards the end of his fourth year. Told him to enjoy his life without you weighing him down, despite his insistence that you’d do no such thing. 
Trey finally relented when you told him that you had a world, a family, a home (without him) to get to. Somewhere you belonged, somewhere that wasn’t with him. 
It hurt, yes, knowing that you were never really meant to be with him in the first place. It was simply by magical chance that you were plucked from your world to turn his own upside down. Likewise, it was simply by chance that you and him got together to steal and eat his heart, leaving him almost an empty shell of himself. 
So it was a surprise to see you at Riddle’s wedding, of all places, dressed up in a pretty green outfit as you giggled with some bridesmaids. Seven, you looked good, the fabric hugging all the right spots. Maybe he was being a bit delusional, but Trey swears that the green of your outfit matched the color of his hair, and he had a small possessive streak pass through him at the thought. If it wasn’t for Cater pinching his arm, Trey would be sure that he was in a dream. 
“Ow! Cater!” Trey hissed, rubbing his arm as the strawberry-blonde smirked at him. Cater’s hair was longer now, but he kept his signature style from school still. 
“Go on, talk to them.” Cater nudged him with his elbow, gesturing to you. “I know you want too~”
Trey huffed, watching the liquid in his cup as he swirled his punch. “I’m fine, thanks.”
“Oh, come on!” Cater whined, latching on to Trey’s arm. 
“We didn’t end on good terms.”
Cater countered, “You didn’t end on bad ones either.”
“Hmph.” Trey clicked his tongue, eyeing you from the corner of his eye. Your hair had grown longer, and was dyed. It looked nice on you.
Still leaning against Trey, Cater pouted before a mischievous look passed over his face as he leaned in to whisper in Trey’s ear. 
“Besides, I heard they’ve stayed single since being with you.”
“…” A sigh. “Really?”
“Totes, so you really ought to go make a move before that blonde dude does, though it doesn’t look like he’s having much luck.”
Finally deciding to look up, Trey noticed your uncomfortable expression as the guy twirled a strand of your hair with his fingers. Despite being known for being rather mild-mannered, a handful of your mutual friends knew the truth: Trey had a nasty jealous streak where you were concerned. 
He wasn’t sure when or how he got across the room, but Trey was suddenly hovering over you and the blond man, hazel eyes piercing his back. Surprise flitted your features as a hand was offered to you, along with a familiar. 
“Sorry, hope I’m not interrupting.” Trey had to withhold a smug smirk as he saw your eyes light up at the sight of him. “But would you mind sharing a dance?”
You eagerly nodded, taking his hand and mumbling a half-hearted apology to the other man as Trey guided you to the dance floor, filled with couples sharing a dance to the latest love song. 
His hands rested on the familiar curve of your waist as your arms wrapped around his neck, hesitating before finally settling your hands on the back of his neck. The two of you swayed to the music, a surprisingly comfortable silence between you two. Honestly? It was as if you two never broke up, with how your bodies curled into each other, heart-to-heart.
Yet, neither one of you seems willing to start the conversation he was begging to have.
“… You look beautiful—”
“You look wonderful—” 
Both of you opened your mouths at the same time, interrupting each other before sharing a giggle.
“Sorry, sorry. You go first.”
Trey shook his head. “No, go ahead.”
You smiled, something soft and a bit sad, before looking him up and down. “You look good, got stockier. The bakery’s got you working hard, hm?”
“Ha, yeah. It has, what…about you?”
Your lips thinned, as you looked away. “Still at NRC with Grim, we teach the new Beast-tamer curriculum. It’s…fun.”
Silence fell over you two again, the elephant in the room hanging between you two.
“You’ve been here, all this time, then?”
You nodded, a sliver of shame passing over your features. 
“He never did find me a way home after we…you know…”
Trey sharply inhaled, tightening his grip and rubbing soothing circles as he nodded. “Yeah…why didn’t you…tell me. Why didn’t you come back?” He left out the ‘to me.’
You stopped dancing, making him stumble slightly as he watched your face intently, heart aching at the tears growing in your eyes. 
 “I—” Trey watched as you swallowed a lump in your throat, voice shaky. “—I felt so bad that you’d spent your time and energy on being with me when I might not even stay, so I wanted you to go off and live life. But then, he never did find me a way back, and I realized that I just pushed you away, and I just couldn’t face you—”
You broke into sobs, burying your face into his chest as Trey led you away from the dance floor. He managed to pull you into a secluded hallway, one for the staff to enter in and out of the kitchen. Trey held you close as he rubbed your back, resting his cheek on the top of your head as you rested into the crook of his neck.
“I-I'm sorry… I shouldn't be…” You were sniffling, letting out little hiccups as you spoke. “—crying like this… I'm not trying to make you… feel bad… I just… I should go…”
As you moved to pull away, Trey tightened his grip, hand reaching up to caress your cheek as you looked up at him with watery eyes. You were as beautiful as the day you left him, tears streaking your makeup and all. 
“Don’t, please, I—” Trey sighed, resting his forehead against yours. “I won’t lose you again. I missed you so much, please, stay?”
You nodded, still sniffling, as you moved to kiss the palm holding your cheek. “I missed you too, but aren’t you mad at me? For not coming back?”
Trey shook his head, smiling softly at you. Whatever anger he had was immediately forgiven at the sight of you before him. He couldn’t care less about the last few years, as long as he had you back in his arms again. 
“As long as I can have you back in my arms, the past is forgiven. As long as…you’ll have me?”
The two of you shared another sweet smile, leaning into each other to press your lips in a soft, fleeting kiss. The type of kiss you give when you can’t tell the difference between a dream and reality. Cater’s quick photo of you two lovers would later help cement that fact that this was reality. 
It’s a week later that Trey has that exact same picture set as his home and lock screen.
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I'd tell them, "Put me back in it" (Da-ah, darlin') / I would do it again (Ah-ah, ah-ah) / If I could hold you for a minute (Da-ah, darlin') / I'd go through it again (Ah-ah, ah-ah)
It’s all dark. It’s always dark until the moment Ace opens his eyes and the coffin opens. Ace goes through the orientation ceremony, only to have it interrupted by you stumbling into the Mirror Chamber, an energetic and egotistical Grim demanding to take your spot. 
It’s dark in the cave that he goes into with you two and Deuce to collect the new chandelier magistone. You're screaming, he’s screaming, so are Deuce and Grim. It’s a shit show, even before Riddle comes to drag him and Deuce back to the dorm. 
It’s dark when he makes the trek to your dorm after being collared. Grumbling about just wanting a snack, about Riddle’s unnecessary rage, and about who the hell can remember all 810 rules. It’s light, though, that he sees when you open the door to Ramshackle, the warm, old lightbulbs from the hallway creating a halo around you. 
It’s light again, in the morning as the sun filters through the broken window, you poking him awake to get to class.
Ace has never been one to get sentimental, the idea of love is frightening, to be frank. But looking at you again, light curtaining your features, he was reminded why he did what he did. 
Why he punched Riddle for his outburst and insults to you. 
Why he threw himself into the fight against Leona as he threatened to turn you to sand. 
Why he let himself get “tricked” by Azul again and again, get beaten up by the twins under the sea again and again. Why he tried to run back to school to your rescue, only to be too late again and again. Why he endured the embarrassment of losing the SDC. 
He’d hoped that this time he’d be able to avoid getting into a coma from the S.T.Y.X. Charon robots again, but he had no luck, so you once again had to depend on Rook and Epel getting you through the Isle of Woe. Maybe he should’ve focused on getting Grim back after scratching you, or maybe just prevented him from eating all the blot stones, then you wouldn’t have been in this mess. 
It might have prevented Malleus’s own blot, though Ace wasn’t really sure what led to his spiraling. It was probably a combination of a lot of information, as it was with the rest of the blots. Either way, he’d been hoping that preventing Grim from eating the 8th blot stone would’ve prevented this. 
Ace wouldn’t know though, as he’s been through this year at least 4 times now. Trying to prevent what he’s slowly starting to believe is inevitable.  
He’s replayed your deaths over and over in his brain. The first one that happened, he was upset for losing a friend, but probably would’ve gotten over it. It sounds harsh, but that was the reality of the situation. 
After the second loop, Ace started noticing you more. Things he missed out on the first time. The way you smiled, the way you walked, the way you tugged on your shirt when you were nervous. It was cute. 
It was his third loop that he started noticing little things. How you liked to grab on to his arm when it got too crowded. How you always made an effort to help him in class, despite having to catch up with nearly 2 decades of curriculum just to understand the professors. He noticed how you’d blush whenever he’d make flirty jokes. 
It was his fourth, and current, loop that he really started to view you differently. That he started to view these second, third, and fourth chances as a way to keep you safe. To not lose you again. 
You were always helping him, despite the stress he caused you. Every time you’d let him crash in your dorm, eventually convincing you to let him share at least your room. He’d be up, tossing and turning as he watched your sleep. He wasn’t trying to be creepy, but seeing you take your whole situation in stride, every overblot, every condescending comment, every shenanigan Grim, Deuce, and him really made Ace think about why he was doing this. 
Was it because he felt bad? No, it certainly wasn’t the first time, anyway. Was it because he liked having you around? Kinda, maybe a little. Was it because every time he’d ask you why you got involved with all the drama at school, you’d answer with a shrug, a smile, and simply answer “I gotta protect my friends, as best I can anyway.” That was probably partially the reason.
He thinks the reason he’s so desperate to make sure you stay around is because of the promise you made with him the first loop around: “If I can’t go home, let’s always stick together! I like you, and you like me, so we can support each other every way we can.”
You’d made this promise, in one form or another, every loop.
“Promise we’ll stay friends, even after graduation! I wanna stick by my first friend’s side!”
“Ace? Do you actually promise to take care of me? I know I’m a pain, no magic and all, but I’ve taken care of you in my own way, do you really promise to do the same?”
It was his fourth time watching you live your year in Twisted Wonderland. And it’s then that it clicked for him: he was falling deep into love with the magicless Prefect that cared way too much for others, and much too little for themselves. 
“Ace…” you gasped, a bloodied hand reaching out for him as an overblotted Grim made a rampage throughout the Mirror Chamber. He could hear the others screaming, magic being cast, and a distinct yowl from Grim as Riddle launched another fire spell at him. 
Ace cringed as the giant direbeast that was once his little fiery friend screamed in pain, running around until he tripped and fell through where there was once a wall. Grim let out an eerie, inhuman scream as he fell, a sickening crunch echoing as he landed on the stone ground. For the fourth time, Grim was gone. But that didn’t matter, not when he was watching you die for the fourth time. 
“Hey! Hey, hey, hey I’m here.” Ace had managed to crawl over to you, clasping your hand with his own. He rested your head on his lap as you coughed, red liquid leaving your mouth as you did. 
“No, nononononono—you’re fine!” Ace hyperventilated as he looked over your battered body. He was sure that he had prevented Grim from eating Vil’s blot stone. Was that not the reason he turned into this? Did he only need to eat a few before turning into a monster? He was so confident that he’d managed to keep you safe. So why? Whywhywhywhywhywhywhy—
“Ace.” He froze as you murmured his name, your other hand reaching for his cheek, wiping away the tears he didn’t realize he was leaving. 
“Ace, promise me you’ll stay with me? I don’t want to be alone right now…” you hiccuped as you started crying, curling into his chest as Ace cradled you. “I’m sorry that I couldn’t help! I was so useless, so useless to let Grim get to this point. So useless as a friend, I’m so sorry!”
Ace curled into you, ignoring the voices from behind you two, no doubt the other students coming to the realization that you’d be grievously harmed. 
“I’ll stay with you, I’m always with you.” Ace shuddered. He felt like throwing up. “I’m going to try again, I won’t be too late this time. I’ll make sure to keep you safe this time. I won't lose you again.”
Ace ignored the person shaking his shoulder as he watched you hyperventilate, before your breathing slowed and eventually stopped. He ignored the surprised cries as magic swirled around him, as he activated his signature spell for the fifth, and hopefully final time:
With a flick of the wand, a rhythm sublime,
Reverse The Clock, turn back the chime,
No time to say 'Hello', goodbye!
I'm late, I'm late, I'm late!
It’s all dark. It’s always dark until the moment Ace opens his eyes and the coffin opens for the fifth time.
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